Blood is the New Black
by QueenOfTheDream
Summary: In the Modern Nights, Kagome, an average college student, moves from Tokyo to San Diego to escape a droll life. However, after a fateful bump'n'grind session with a handsome stranger, she unwillingly gets sucked into a world she never imagined existed: the world of vampires and the whirlpool of the law and politics of the undead. AU, inspired by Vampire the Masquerade- Bloodlines.
1. The Good, The Bad, and The Undead

The dark red strobe lights threw a gyrating splatter of scarlet across the pulsing crowd. She looked up at the dark chandeliered ceiling, watching the crystals quiver with each pummeling hit of the rhythm. Even in her black stiletto boots, she was unable to see over the undulating top of the crowd. She didn't belong, was out of place; then again, that's what made her fit in here. Ghostly pale faces with black painted lips passed by, and an endless array of corsets, Lolita skirts, and trench coats paraded past. Leather, spandex, vinyl, plastic: all sweat-slicked and doused in the glow of the ever-changing kaleidoscope of the overhead lights. The cherry lollipop wedged between her teeth produced a sticky sweetness that coated her tongue. A plethora of people was moving and pressing up against her: a pastie-covered breast here, a pleather-clad leg there, and hands… hands everywhere. The floor vibrated with the throbbing beat of a new song, and the thrumming ring of the bass traveled through her legs to rattle around the inside of her ribcage, igniting her veins. The reflections of the stained glass windows threw jagged colors haphazardly across the crowd. It was a menagerie. An all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses.

Of course, the tiny pink tablet she'd procured a couple hours earlier while waiting in line helped a bit.

"_Don't look, don't look, the shadows breathe."_ Don't look, huh? She was drunk on this sensation, greedily lapping up the sight of every strap-covered torso, every Lolita draped in clicking beads, every glittering eye barely reigning in the hunger, the animalistic lust that was so contagious on the dance floor.

The tiny leather miniskirt hugging her upper thighs slid against one body and another, and her ripped black tank top seemed smothering. As she lifted her lace-wrapped palms to raise the wavy sable curtain of hair off her slightly sweaty neck, she backed up and ground into whomever, whatever was behind her, curling her lip above the cherry lollipop with a glassy-eyed hunger. She was fairly surprised to find masculine arms winding themselves around her torso from behind her, long fingers ghosting over her electrified skin. Her breath quickened, and a sultry carmine-rimmed grin bloomed across her cheeks.

This… this was why she left Tokyo. Everything there, from department stores to classrooms, even the goth clubs and specialty groups, seemed dreadfully rigid and artificial to her. This was tangible. Though this entire club experience was a façade, it was at the same time concrete and brimming with a captivating passion that ebbed and swelled with the music, spreading over each person there. San Diego was so mutable, its people in a constant state of flux and livelihood.

She leaned backward into a hard, definitely male chest with a smirk, burying her fingers in the thick hair at her temples as she let her hips lazily gyrate against his pelvis. The dark stranger's leather-wrapped arms snaked around her ribcage, trapping her in a snare of delight, to barely caress her collarbone, sending tendrils of fire shooting down her abdomen. She responded by grabbing his hands, so cold and hard under her own, and guiding them to her breasts. A tiny groan fell from her lips at the touch, and he slowly slid one hand southward, still covered by her own small fingers.

"_Every night I scream your name,"_ a cool voice whispered the lyric in her ear with a husky gravel in his tone that made her shiver. A sinfully delicious tingle shimmied down her spine. Just as his hand reached the hem of her skirt, however, she playfully turned around in his grasp, looking up to the predator that had come to dine at her feast for the eyes as she grabbed the buckles that ran across the leather vest covering his muscled torso. Spectral champagne-colored eyes seemed to glow in the dark as they hungrily took in her fashionably disheveled look. Platinum hair- almost silver- took on the colors of the flickering strobe lights like a canvas.

Pulling the lollipop out from between her lips, leaving a sticky coating of sugar, she let it drop to the ground, forgotten. She worried a bit of her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at the devilishly handsome stranger through her black lashes. One second later, she had her fingers twisted in the belt loop of his pants and was backing through the crowd, her eyes screaming, "Come get me, heartbreaker." He allowed himself to be led, tilting his finely-angled face up to look down at her with a smug sensuality. The crowd parted easily, leading them quickly to her destination.

It was a shaded alcove near the gigantic wooden double doors. It still held a statue of the Virgin Mary from the days when the joint used to be a church. She vaguely wondered what manner of sins and perversions old Mary had seen in her recent club days before she pulled her stranger into the space with her. Gazing up at him through her dark fringe of hair, she watched the tall man's face stretch into a wicked grin, and he bent to lap at the cherry-flavored residue upon her pout, his own lips cool and reminiscent of rain- her very own Aquarius. She grinned upon his mouth.

Her arms draped around his neck as his hands found purchase upon her slender hips, gently parting her legs with one knee. His kisses were deft and expertly placed, and the situation gained a degree of urgency as she fisted a hand in his hair, to which he replied by pushing her just roughly enough into the wall to jar her surprisingly. He bent his neck to lavish kisses and nips upon her collarbone, earning a mewling, "mmh." She could feel the beat of the music rumbling through the wall and into her back, feeding the throbbing that seemed to have taken over her body. Her breaths came in shallow pants, and her nimble fingers traveled low to find his belt buckle.

She was surprised, however, when the knee that so subtly parted her legs jerked upward and slightly slid forward, and she had to savagely bite her lip to muffle the keening sigh that bubbled up her throat. Her hair was sticking to her neck in curling tendrils, and her breath was becoming more ragged with each touch, each caress of sweet torture he was inflicting. Giving up on his belt buckle, she reached feverishly for the zipper of his vest, which she found under his left arm. With a playful giggle, she slid it down and hastily pulled her own tank top over her head while he removed the vest and uncaringly dropped it on the floor. His gaze rested upon her modestly-sized chest, which was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and almost heaving in anticipation. Not wanting to lose a moment, she swiftly bent over, sliding her red lace thong down her thighs and laced-up boots before stepping out of it and flinging it behind him as she threw herself against his torso, fervently laying kisses upon his collarbone and neck and running her hands down his hard pectorals. He once again pinned her against the wall and ground against her, nothing between them but the leather skirt and his pants. Her red nails dug into his shoulder as she cried out, drowning in the sea of hazy emotion and grating tecno-beat. She hiked a leg up to rest upon his cool hip, her nerves jumping and quivering with the promise of fulfillment. He slid one knuckle down her slicked folds, and her head fell backward, a laughing smile splashed across her face as he resumed ravishing her neck. The last thing she saw was crimson lace draped over the head of the statue of Mary.

Before she even realized what was coming, his arms locked her in place, one hand firmly pressing into her shoulder blades, molding her to him and the other pinning her leg to his side. As fangs sunk into the sticky flesh of her neck, hot blood ran in rivulets down her skin. Immediately, the heat that had been building in her belly snapped and released, sending a wave of pleasure crashing and ripping through her as her muscles contracted and pulsed. A gasp tore from her lips and her knees went weak as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced rippled through her body. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, blissfully lost to unconsciousness as he lapped up the red ambrosia her heart couldn't help but pulse out for him.

…

When she awoke, she was lying upon a bare bed in a dimly-lit motel room almost in the last state of undress she remembered. Somehow, she was back in the tank top, and her hair was fanned out upon the sheet under her. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and her faculties of logic and reasoning seemed to be impaired, as she simply could not figure out how she arrived there. All she knew was that a cold ball of anxiety had settled in her stomach. That is, until she espied her golden-eyed tormentor sitting in the armchair across the room, a red lace thong draped over one index finger. The look of indignation, shock, and primal fear that must have crossed her features apparently caused him great delight, as he chuckled lowly, tauntingly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, making the flimsy lace sway as if to taunt her. There were lipstick smears still remaining on his jaw and collarbone.

She lay motionless upon the bed, frozen in utter terror and confusion. The predatory Adonis merely smirked at her, a Cheshire grin upon the face of a tiger. After a few seconds, she was able to swallow the thick knot in her throat. "Wh… where? How did I-"

"Are you that clueless, woman? Look around you. Can you hear it?"

She lay stock-still, straining her ears for any sound. Nothing. Her wide eyes stared, terrified and bewildered, at him, and she slowly brought herself to a sitting position on the edge of the sagging bed.

"Why, child, what happened to your heartbeat? It seems you misplaced it, or put it in the wrong hands," he stated mockingly.

Realization crashed around her ears. She heard nothing at all. No heartbeat, no breathing. Only the traffic outside and the ticking of the small clock by the bathroom and the loud thumping of the club a few blocks away and the whispering of the people downstairs and the steady pull of the ocean a few miles to the west-

Her hands flew to her ears as she cried out pitifully. She raised petrified eyes to search his face for answers, of which she received none.

"It will subside. Soon enough, you'll be able to hear what you want, when you want. Have you figured it out yet? Not quite the no strings attached hookup you were aiming for tonight?"

Her thoughts were frantically buzzing around her head. It was as if someone had taken all of her mental file cabinets and tipped them all upon the ground. Nothing made sense. Her bottom lip, still coated with the little remnants of her lipstick, began to tremble.

Palms flattened against her ears, fingers fisted in her hair, entreating eyes dripping tracks of tears, and the quivering lip made for quite a picture, and when she caught her reflection in the spotty mirror behind him, she nearly screamed. Where her average dark brown eyes sat in her average Japanese face, now sat two hyacinth-colored orbs swimming in a red tincture that spilled down her cheeks. Blood in her tears. She brought a hand to the left side of her neck, and to her dread, it came away with flecks of dry blood.

Out of nowhere, his head darted toward the door, features suddenly alert and very troubled. His short hair, which actually was silver, not bleached or platinum, fell into his eyes, and his eyebrows sank low upon his forehead. Before any words could leave her lips, he was prying the door open and clicking it shut behind him. She could hear his footsteps sprinting down the hallway. The first clear thought that came to her that night was pitiful and tore her heart in two.

"Mama."

By the time her brain registered that the door crashed open in the wake of two lightning-fast assailants, a crude wooden stake was driven into her chest by a hideously deformed creature she guessed was once human. Her eyes shot down to watch the blood surge out around the foreign object lodged in her sternum. Instead of screaming raggedly as she had deemed appropriate, her body decided to fall into unconsciousness.

And that was how Kagome Higurashi, college student and teaching assistant extraordinaire, was pitched head first into the world of vampires.

* * *

A/N: Whoa. The inspiration for this totally came outta left field. I don't know if I should make this a one-shot or a full-fledged fic. Opinions, people? Seriously, I want your guys' opinions. :D

Sigh. I suppose this is what happens when you play Vampire the Masquerade-Bloodlines (which I do not own) for too long: it gets in your head and fills you with nonsensical ideas for stories twisted in the VtM universe.

And snaps for me, this is my first fic set in the modern era!

If you've never played VtMB before, I highly recommend it. It's a little buggy and old (2003 I think), but it's become a cult classic. So good. So very good. :3

BTW guys, I recommend listening to the song "Burn" by The Cure while reading this chapter. It inspired me greatly and I feel fits the (tentative) theme of this story quite well. :D

This chapter was inspired by "The Good, the Bad, and the Undead" by The 69 Eyes.


	2. Swamped

Before her eyes opened, Kagome could smell the dust, the wood varnish, and the musty scent of old drywall. Overpowering that, however, was a gnawing hunger, a feeling like none other she had ever experienced. It set her gut aflame and strangled her lungs while wrapping an iron vice around her dry throat. It nearly engulfed any other sensations or thoughts, and all she could think about was the voice in her head that was wrapping black tendrils around her mind and whispering, "Feed."

Finally, she slid her eyes open and found herself kneeling in a lush drawing room with carved mahogany wall paneling. Facing her was an antique fireplace with intricate gilded paneling that glistened in the flickering candlelight that partially illuminated the room. A gathering of shadowed figures surrounded her and she discovered, attempting to think around the thick, insisting words echoing in her head, that her hands were bound behind her back with chains bolted to the floor.

From the doorway, she heard the velvety, cultured voice of a woman drawing near as her high heels clicked upon the old hardwood floor.

"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope this hasn't been too much of an inconvenience to you, but this is indeed a matter of grave importance." She came into Kagome's line of sight, half-illuminated by the burning candles perched around the room.

"You never can trust a statement that comes before the word 'but,'" came a low dulcet voice from one of the shadows in front of her.

"Normally, I would welcome your witty banter, Manners. Tonight, however, we must deal with a pressing manner. This childe presented before you has been created and abandoned without consultation or consideration of the law. Normally, the law would dictate that the Caitiff be executed, no?"

She stepped into the room, flicking a light switch which caused a yellowed, dusty overhead light fixture to flood the room with muted light. Kagome reflexively snapped her eyelids closed.

"Well yeah, but I think we should question her and see what she has to say. Who's to say her sire isn't just hiding out and waiting for her release? She might not be Caitiff after all," the grainy, brash voice of a male sounded from her immediate left. She opened her eyes and saw that the voice in question belonged to a very young man, perhaps having been seventeen years old at the time of his demise. While his skin held the apparent characteristic pallor of the dead, it retained a tinge of bronze that made him look ironically sunkissed. His expression was thoughtful and directed in front of him. Kagome followed his gaze to the woman she'd heard earlier.

This woman was the very picture of porcelain beauty: dainty, but hard and polished. "Yes, Braddock," her smooth voice slipped between smirking rouged lips, "but how do you propose we find this sire? He certainly will not be showing his face any time soon for breaking the Traditions so blatantly." She tilted her strong jaw up, sooty grey eyes looking through small, round spectacles at the seven men surrounding her.

Kagome's heart would have been racing if it wasn't rotting in her chest. The men all bore airs of regality and authority, the young "Braddock" ruffian included. One dipped into her vision unexpectedly, causing her to flinch in surprise.

"Ooh, but isn't she just a doll, Kikyou? Do you know where you are, Buttercup?" His voice was rich and saccharine, and his makeup-lined slanted eyes glittered with amusement.

"_Feed_," the voice in her head whispered insistently. The husky voice that tumbled from her lips barely sounded like her own. "No."

The man's tittering laugh echoed through the room. "You're in the Camarilla meeting hall, Babydoll- a bastion of Kindred law and justice that usually serves as an execution chamber. Do you know why you're here?"

"Liu. Are you Prince of this city? If so, feel free to continue," the unyielding female demanded authoritatively. She was met with a red-rimmed smirk. "You, Childe," she continued, turning her bespectacled gaze toward Kagome," are here because you have left your mortal shell, slipped out of the mortal coil, and fallen into the world of Kindred. Do you know who sired you?"

Kagome looked at Kikyou's patent leather heels as the voice in her head was growling. "I… I don't understand…" she faltered, turning her miserable gaze up to the hard woman.

Sigh. "You are a vampire, girl. A creature of the night." Kagome felt the instinctive urge to flee. She wanted to peel her skin off and run away, far away from these strangers and this eerie house. "Your sire, the one who made you, do you know who he was? What did he look like?" Kikyou prodded, striding around the room with one finger resting upon her bottom lip.

"I don't-"

"_Feed."_ It became increasingly difficult for her to form coherent sentences behind the curtain of wild hunger blanketing her senses.

"I'm not sure who... He was tall. Yellow eyes." She thought of that Adonis at the hotel with a roguish smile and wicked thoughts behind his eyes.

High heeled shoes stopped clicking upon the floor. "Yellow, you said? Perhaps golden?"

Kagome nodded, the voice in her head steadily rising in volume. "And he had silver hair, shaggy." Kikyou's demeanor quickly became darkened.

"Sesshomaru…" she mumbled, gazing pensively at a velvet armchair, and the other figures in the room collectively shifted in place. She abruptly turned and walked to the intricate stained glass window behind Kagome, and her voice was like a fan snapping closed. "What do we do now with this childe? I have called upon the council for a reason." All of the figures' eyes darted toward the window, some settling upon Kikyou and the rest upon Kagome, who felt like she was burning from the inside out.

An old man, his face wrinkled and marred, spoke first in Spanish-accented English. "I believe this childe should be put to death, as the law clearly states. She was unlawfully created and would become rogue Caitiff if left alone."

"Ah," interrupted Braddock, slinging his long black braid over one shoulder, "there have been provisions for adoption, though." A hush fell over the group.

The musical British voice from earlier, Manners, spoke up, and Kagome watched his hands form a steeple in front of his face. "Generally, that would take place if a childe's sire was killed or forced to relinquish guardianship. It is certainly not the case here." His dark green eyes rested upon Kagome, and there was something in his stare that frightened her. "_FEED,"_ the voice was shouting in her head, and her limbs began to tremble.

The tallest man spoke next, his voice smooth and soothing, a definite clash with his wild black hair and belt of knives slung around his waist. "As Prince, you could make the exception. She looks remarkably similar-"

Kikyou held up a small hand, still gazing at the colored glass. "I have thought about this extensively. Though it is breaking with custom, this fledgling will be spared upon one condition." She turned around and looked each of the seven men in the face. "I declare a blood hunt upon her sire, Sesshomaru, for breaking the Masquerade and violating Tradition. If any here among the Primogen object, let it be known." There was a dark chuckling from the large hulking man stuffed into the armchair next to the fireplace. A devious smile stretched across his mottled skin, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth. "See to it that the word gets out to every Kindred in the city," Kikyou finished, effectively dismissing the men. They filed out the open door, leaving the two women alone.

Kikyou bent in front of Kagome. The words in her head were incomprehensible shrieking, and she felt the need to rip, to tear, to shred. After observing the restrained girl with a scrutinizing eye, she briskly walked to the other end of the room and opened a closet, out of which a sharply-dressed young woman stumbled, wild-eyed and panicked.

Before she could comprehend her actions or evaluate the situation, Kagome lunged at the girl, her arms ripping the chains from the floorboards to wrap around the supple, warm body. Teeth drove into the neck, eliciting an agonized scream from the victim that was strangled as Kagome's hands came up to grab the right shoulder and seize a fistful of red hair, pulling the head to the left with a sickening crack. Blood gushed from the wound like a fountain, spraying droplets upon the golden fireplace and antique wallpaper, and Kagome couldn't help but lap it up, savoring each gulp that slid down her throat to quench the raging hunger threatening to devour her alive. She could feel the heartbeat pounding, hear it singing in the blood, until it ground to a halt.

When Kagome regained her senses, she realized with horror that she was covered in blood. She dropped the brutalized corpse on the floor with a thud, hands flying to her face as a hysterical scream bubbled up in her throat. Kikyou cooly stated, "That was the Beast. It lives inside of all Kindred, all vampires. Do you understand?" She calmly unlocked the manacles around Kagome's shaking wrists.

Kagome turned horrified eyes to the cold woman, who was looking at her expectantly. Receiving no answer, Kikyou continued. "You now bear the curse of centuries, young one; a curse that your sire bestowed upon you carelessly and without permission. The punishment for that is death." She indifferently handed Kagome an embroidered handkerchief procured from the pocket of her navy blue blazer.

"You are a creature of the night. Be aware, for sunlight will send you to your Final Death quickly. Do not risk it. You will need to feed nightly upon human blood, the blood of the rich by the looks of it." She must have seen Kagome's dumbfounded expression, for she elaborated. "You are of the bloodline Ventrue, as am I. There seven bloodlines, or clans. Each clan has certain disciplines and aspects to their being that distinguishes them from the others. Members of clan Ventrue may only feed upon one type of kine, or human. Seeing you have yet to vomit, something about that girl must have done the trick. It could be the blood of the rich, the blood of beautiful women, the blood of the famous."

At "famous," Kagome's gaze darted down, afraid of what celebrity she had apparently savaged and murdered in cold blood. She felt her body go cold. Laying before her was one of the mayor's daughters. Her shocked eyes flew to Kikyou, who was nonchalantly fixing her long black hair into a tight bun at the back of her head.

"Not to worry, childe. The corpse will be disposed of in a fashion so as to not expose you or our kind. You must take care not to reveal yourself to the world of humans. If you do, the wrath of ages will fall upon all of our heads. You don't seem to be the sort of girl who wants to bring about the Apocalypse."

Kagome stared at her, handkerchief held limply between her fingers as her brain frantically searched for a logical explanation to what her life had become. She came up with nothing and found herself fervently wishing for a time machine.

Kikyou was walking out the door and into a hallway by the time Kagome came to her senses and jogged after her.

"…must block out all sunlight in your haven. If you wish, I'll make arrangements for a new haven if your current home is insufficient. Otherwise, go home and board up your windows before the sun comes up, and leave nothing to risk. I'll come to you at nightfall." Before she knew it, they had arrived at the foyer of the lavish building, Kikyou opening the door to reveal a taxi parked in the street.

"I bid you good evening, neonate. I will call upon you tomorrow," Kikyou stated, walking Kagome down the stairs to street level.

Before opening the taxi door, Kagome spun on her heel and held out her hand. "M-my name is Kagome Higurashi. Thank you for sparing my life or, I guess, unlife." Kikyou stared at the girl's bloodied outstretched hand and replied without animosity, "Good night, childe."

Kagome's taxi ride was shorter than expected, as the "Camarilla safehouse" was apparently close to East Village, where her apartment was located. After exiting the cab, she sprinted up the two flights of stairs to her door. Unlocking it with shaking hands, she slammed it behind her, satisfied with the loud finality of it and the darkness shrouding the room. The digital clock on her microwave read 4:27. She grabbed a pair of pajamas from her dresser and headed into the bathroom for a much needed shower. Undressing, she realized that she was still without underwear. That damned creep...

Satisfied that the blood was scrubbed free, she donned fresh clothing and practically sprinted around the small apartment, shutting all of the blinds and drawing the curtains over each. After bunching up a few towels and shoving them in the tiny bathroom window, she turned around, expecting total darkness. She was instead faced with Sesshomaru, a pale ghost in the dark oblivion that was now her apartment, her life. She jumped.

"That's not going to be enough, you know," he said, cocking his head to the side. Kagome's mouth flew open.

"B-b how did you get? Why? They called a blood hunt, whatever that-" She was effectively silenced when he placed a finger against her lips.

"That won't be a problem if you keep your mouth shut, now will it?" he patronizingly asked. He observed her astonished expression. Her mouth formed an "o", and her hands were frozen midair where they had flailed at his sudden appearance.

"What did Kikyou- the Prince- have to say?"

"Uhh… Well, there were seven men there. I was going to be executed for being Caitiff, whatever that is. Thanks for that, by the way."

"A meeting of the Primogen. I expected no less. The Primogen are usually the seven oldest vampires in the city, one from each clan of Kindred. Caitiff are clanless vampires without a sire and thus, are unlearned and likely to expose Kindred to humans. Typically, they're regarded as a scourge and a liability. They are usually thin-blooded, which means they're without vampiric or supernatural powers and unable to sire vampire childer of their own. Most Caitiff don't know their clan because they were abandoned by their sire. You, Kagome, were never going to be Caitiff." He ran a finger under her chin, and she pulled away as a cold shiver ran down her back.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded, dreadfully afraid that the answer had something to do with stalking or a closet full of dead lookalikes.

"I've been in here since they busted you in the hotel. You've got some nice pictures hanging up. Does your family still live in Tokyo?" His voice was mocking.

"That's none of your goddamned business!"

He held up his hands and walked out into the kitchen, where he sat in one of her cheap dining chairs. "Back to the question. What did the Prince have to say?"

Kagome shot him a venomous look. "I think she adopted me, whatever that means. I… I killed someone tonight. I sucked the blood right out of her and snapped her neck like it was a popsicle stick without even realizing it. I couldn't control my own body..." Her voice took on a hysteric edge, and Sesshomaru took her arm to guide her to the chair opposite his.

"Most everyone has a messy first feeding. That was the Beast. It's the rabid animal that lives in all of us; the personification of our inner predator if you will. If you go too long without feeding, your Beast takes over. No matter how well you keep it locked in its cage, how many corpses you feed it, it _will_ resurface eventually and you _will_ frenzy. You can bet your last dollar on that." He casually grabbed the newspaper on the table and opened it to the sports section, crossing one leg to rest his ankle upon his knee. Looking at him, one would have guessed he was speaking of the lineup for his favorite basketball team or of the stock market rather than the inevitability of a bloody massacre.

"She said she was coming back for me tomorrow night."

Golden eyes resurfaced over the edge of the paper. "Is that so?" He put it down. "Interesting indeed. She say why?"

She shook her head. "No, but maybe it has something to do with adopting me." she offered. Sesshomaru said nothing else, but instead got up, motioning for Kagome to do the same. He guided her to the bathroom and into the tub, where she turned around with confusion written plainly upon her face.

"Don't tell her that you saw me. You'll be executed for aiding a wanted criminal." He grabbed the door and yanked it cleanly off its hinges with a great ripping sound.

"Hey!-" she shouted, but was cut off as he leaned the door against the wall and kicked a hole clear through the bottom third of it, catching it before it clattered to the floor.

"Lay down. The sun's going to be coming up soon," he muttered as he broke the jagged shards off of the end of the wood. She quickly complied, balling up a towel for a makeshift pillow in the bottom of the bathtub. She felt like a little kid, staring innocently up at her parent, who held a nice, warm blanket and promises for tomorrow.

"Sweet dreams, little neonate. We'll talk more tomorrow," he whispered sarcastically and lowered the lid onto her makeshift coffin.

Whoa, guys. I've gotten some great feedback, especially here. Thanks for all your guys' support for this fic. I apologize for making this chapter so long and boring, but hey: this fic is not only about the trials and tribulations of the dead, but the political frame in which they function. Shooting for realism here. :D

If anyone has any questions on any of the terms I've used, this site may be helpful to you: whitewolf. wikia (dot com) /wiki/Category:Glossary

Quick rundown- Kindred= vampire, kine= human. There are seven clans, and each clan has a leader in the city called the Primogen. Kagome, Sesshomaru, and Kikyou are of the clan Ventrue. The Prince (regardless of gender) is kinda like the vampire mayor of the city, but isn't really elected and has much more power, such as the power of execution and excommunication. They often have their fingers in human politics as well. Let me know if you have any other questions! More will be revealed in the next chapters. You, the readers, are in the same shoes as Kagome, the vampire neonate. You gotta start learning somewhere.

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire the Masquerade; Bloodlines or White Wolf.


	3. Things You Can Resist, Things You Cannot

Kagome awoke to a muffled rapping noise that echoed in the space around her. Usually, when one opens their eyes, they are accustomed to seeing sunlight or the comforts of their bedroom. Kagome, however, saw pitch blackness. A lance of panic jolted her awake, and she quickly sat up only to smack into something above her, which shifted with a loud clanging.

She then realized that she had been sleeping in her bathtub where Sesshomaru had left her. The knocking repeated itself, and she recognized that it was coming from her front door. Quickly scurrying over the rubble that used to be her bathroom door, she dashed toward the door.

Opening the door, she fully expected to see Kikyou in all her regal office-chic glory. Instead, she was faced with two small girls, both dressed in gold and black Indian Langa Voni. They looked around five years of age, and Kagome found herself staring at their otherworldly beauty. They looked like little statues, placid devis from a painted tile.

"The Prince is waiting for you outside," one girl spoke, and in a tone far more mature than Kagome had expected.

"I suggest a change in attire," the other one added. Kagome looked down, mortified to see that she was still in her polyester ducky pajamas. All she could do was stare open-mouthed, and the two girls turned to descend the staircase. She quickly reentered her apartment and donned a pair of jeans and a light three-quarter sleeve sweater before bolting back out the door, running her hands roughly through her hair.

Reaching the entrance of her building, she saw that waiting outside was none other than a black limousine. A goddamned stretch. Parked in front of her apartment. She felt horrendously underdressed, but couldn't very well go back upstairs and waste more of the Prince's time. She exited the building, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. When she reached the other side of the limo, she found that the two little Indian girls were waiting next to the open door.

"You may enter," the one with pigtails stated.

"The Prince awaits you," the other said, and Kagome saw with equal parts horror and fascination that she had little vampire fangs. Fixing her eyes upon the interior of the vehicle, she climbed in and sat down upon the lush maroon velvet seat. Across from her as promised, sat Kikyou, who regarded her coolly. The girls climbed in behind her and shut the door.

"Good evening, neonate. I trust you had a decent first night of rest." Kagome nodded without speaking, absently picking at the little pills on her green sweater.

"Do not worry. I will not keep you out too late tonight. I assume you have yet to feed and wish to tie up some loose ends in your mortal life."

"About that," Kagome started, hesitant and unsure where to begin. "What do I tell my mom?" She wondered if the little girls sitting next to the Prince had a mother, though, judging by their blank stares, she guessed not.

"I understand that it's probably hard for you, but you cannot retain contact with your family since it would risk breaking the Masquerade." Kagome stared dumbly. "I'll get to the Masquerade in a moment, but take this into consideration: How would you explain your ashy complexion? Your inability to consume mortal food? The fact that your mother will turn eighty and you will still look like a young adult?"

"How…?"

"Your mother will get a phone call from the San Diego forensics department tomorrow. Your apartment caught fire, and all of your belongings went up in flames. There was very little left of your body when they extinguished the flames. The forensics department will be unable to ship your remains back home due to the fact that they are being used in an ongoing investigation, let alone the international shipping laws that would need to be navigated. She will have no way of knowing that it is all a lie, I assure you."

"Isn't that a little overboard?" Kagome murmured. The thought of her mother getting that call tugged on her decomposed heartstrings.

Kikyou shook her head. "If there was another way, we would use it. We could fabricate a different accident if you are disapproving of fire."

Staring at her knees, Kagome shook her head. "What were you saying about a masquerade?" she quietly asked. They were headed downtown: the lights surrounding the limo grew increasingly brighter.

"Yes, the Masquerade. It's a façade that we all must maintain in the presence of humans. We must act, talk, walk like humans in order to avoid detection and exposure. If you break the Masquerade too many times, hunters will catch your scent and pursue you until the end of your days; that is, unless the Camarilla claims your life first. You are allowed four Masquerade violations in your new life. Upon the fifth infraction, you will be slated for execution."

"Camarilla?"

"The Camarilla is the government of vampires so to speak. All vampires are expected to abide by Camarilla law. Each city has its own vampiric government. There is the Prince, of which I hold the title in San Diego. The Prince's council is comprised of seven vampires, one representing the member clans of the Camarilla. These are known as the Primogen, and are usually the eldest of the vampires in the city, or the ones with the most influence and power. The seven clans are as follows: Ventrue, like you and I, Toreador, Brujah, Gangrel, Malkavian, Tremere, and lastly, the Nosferatu. Do you follow so far?"

Kagome nodded, twiddling her cold fingers.

"Clan Ventrue are historically the leaders of the Camarilla, and often possess a level head and logical way of thinking that makes them especially suited to leadership. The clan-specific powers of the Ventrue are Fortitude and Presence. Fortitude allows you to take extra damage to your vampiric body for a limited amount of time. Make no mistake, you are by no means impervious to bullets, but the use of Fortitude can come in… handy. Presence allows you to either attract or frighten those around you according to your wish, Kindred and kine alike. Each time you invoke these powers, it uses blood. Think of blood like calories. The more activities you perform, the higher your caloric intake must be to compensate. Do you understand?"

"Bullets?!" Kikyou seemingly ignored her alarm and continued on.

"Toreador are often star-quality types with an eye for beauty and enjoy the realms of poetry, art, and film. They also retain more of their human nature than most other vampires. Do not misunderstand, they are monsters like the rest of us. They simply blend in easier with human society.

"Clan Brujah are a very… passionate… sort. They are sometimes members of the Anarch movement, which opposes the Camarilla. It would be wise to stay away from these types, as they often have short lifespans.

"The Gangrel are in and out of the Camarilla, depending upon the day it seems. They are closest to their inner beast and make up some of the most fierce fighters in the Camarilla forces, though they are a solitary type." Kikyou paused, allowing Kagome to process the information.

Kagome shifted in her seat. "I think I follow. Please continue." If her stomach were still a functioning organ, it would be lightly rumbling.

"Clan Tremere is well-versed in sorcery and blood magic. They are some of our best philosophers and intellectuals. They are equal parts fascinating and awe-inspiring.

"I've never met a Malkavian without the Gift of Insight. They are often oracles and seers for our organization, as their vampiric curse allows them to see connections that nearly all others are unable to see.

"Lastly are the Nosferatu. They are perhaps the most damned of the damned, as they're cursed with a hideous appearance and twisted bodies. They must live underground to avoid breaking the Masquerade. However, they do an admirable job of keeping the population of rats under control in our sewers," Kikyou finished, an unsavory grimace upon her face.

Kagome nodded, letting all of the information soak in. "I think I've got it." She happened to look to her right, where upon the plush seat sat the day's newspaper. Splashed across the page, the headline, "BODY OF REBECCA PAIGE FOUND NEAR BOARDWALK, THROAT SLASHED," sat to mock her. Her crime had made the front page.

"It was set up to look like an abduction and murder. You need not fear being caught," Kikyou interjected, effectively making Kagome feel even worse. This crime would go unpunished, and her murder would go unsolved.

"Are there any… clans that aren't in this Camarilla?" Kagome asked, changing the subject. Kikyou nodded solemnly.

"There are seven clans in the Camarilla. Four clans are independent, meaning they owe loyalty to that clan and no organization. Two clans make up the Sabbat. Every evening, thank your lucky stars that you were not made one of them. They are vicious beasts and will not hesitate to kill you for merely existing. Stay away from them," Kikyou finished gravely as the limo came to a slow stop. The door opened, and they exited the vehicle, Kikyou nodding at the chauffeur. Kagome had to do a double take. The driver had short, silver hair and eyes the color of honey. Just like a certain person with whom she had recently acquainted…

She was ridiculously relieved, however, to discover that this man was indeed not Sesshomaru. He had fuller cheeks and a stronger jaw than her panty-thieving sire, but the resemblance was quite uncanny. He smiled politely, and she gave him one last lingering gaze before catching up to Kikyou, who was walking into a very tall swanky-looking building. When they entered the foyer, Kagome saw multitudes of people; very human people, all wearing some form of formal attire. Rather than stopping to indulge in the pointless chitchat the rich were so quick to instigate, Kikyou and the two children made a beeline towards the metal doors of an elevator. Kagome sheepishly followed, keeping her gaze upon the marble floor.

They stepped into the green-carpeted elevator, and Kikyou pressed the button for the twentieth floor, the highest floor in the building. "I own this building, so we are guaranteed privacy," Kikyou added, keeping her eyes upon the doors. "I've arranged for dinner tonight. I hope you hadn't any plans." All Kagome could do was shrug her shoulders and hope for the best.

When the elevator dinged, they were met with a single room that spanned nearly the entire floor. It was like an office combined with a small museum. Priceless paintings decorated the walls, and one wall was a set of floor to ceiling windows that presented the glittering lights of downtown. The Prince walked across the parquet floor, her heels clicking briskly, until she reached a gilded door. Turning the intricate handle, she led Kagome and her tiny retainers into a small intimate lounge. Two young women were waiting upon a red-upholstered sofa across the room. One smiled a maroon-lipped grin and sauntered toward Kikyou.

"My prey," Kikyou muttered under her breath, "is the blood of the vain and self-important. The other girl is for you…" Kagome nervously walked over to the couch and sat next to the second young woman. She was pale with dark brown hair. She was not particularly pretty, but clearly had money if the pearl necklace upon her throat and Prada bag at her feet was any indication. She looked at Kagome shyly. Kagome forced a tight-lipped smile to form upon her face.

And then, tired of the farce, she dove in for the neck, eliciting an, "Unngh," from the wealthy woman seated next to her. The woman clutched Kagome's shoulders and moaned, her heartbeat racing. Quickly enough, the woman was dead and slumped in the sofa next to Kagome, who was cradling her head in her hands. Another night, another murder it seemed.

Kikyou, still standing in the doorway with her jaws clamped upon the other woman's lower neck, looked at Kagome evenly, eventually allowing the body to fall limply into her arms, where she promptly dropped it to the floor.

"You don't like to play with them, I see. Very well. Esha, Neela: you may begin."

The two small girls who had been waiting so patiently behind Kikyou made a sudden dive for the body on the floor, their little mouths and hands biting and ripping and tearing at the freshly expired corpse. Kagome could do nothing but stare, mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. She could hear the flesh tearing, like ripping apart a raw steak, and she fought to keep her hands at her side. She could hear little tongues lapping at the meat, hear their little gullets opening and swallowing chunks of flesh with muffled squelches and slurps.

Sensing her revulsion, Kikyou elaborated. "Neela and Esha are Nagaraja. They are akin to vampires, but rather than drinking the vitae, or blood, of kine, they must consume the flesh. For that taboo, they are scorned and feared among the circles of the supernatural."

"You mean there are other things out there? Ones that aren't vampires?"

"Oh, yes, yes. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and probably many other things share the night with us. Your life has, in effect, become your worst childhood nightmares all wrapped up in one. Hmm, it seems that that girl did the trick for you. I believe it's the blood of the rich that calls out to your hunger…" she mused. Kagome simply watched the tiny undead monsters lick the blood from their petite fingers. They both looked up at her, red smeared across their plump cheeks and running down their chins.

"Come, come. I'll escort you back your haven. The night is still young, and I'd imagine you have much to think over." And that was that. They rode the elevator down, leaving their disaster behind. The car ride was silent and pensive, and when Kagome exited the limousine, she took the newspaper from the seat.

"I will come for you in the next few days," were the last words the Prince had said before Kagome slid the door closed.

She trudged up the stairs to her apartment and unlocked the door to find sheets of metal visible from behind her curtains. Of course, seated at her table was none other than Sesshomaru.

"Have a pleasant evening out with the Prince?" he enquired, nonchalantly picking at the invisible dirt under his nails.

"…'the hell did you do to my apartment? I'll never get the security deposit back now," Kagome whined as she moved the curtains back, revealing metal sheets actually bolted into the plaster of her walls.

"Hmm, losing your security deposit, or bursting into flame at the sun's touch. Tough choice, that one," Sesshomaru mused sarcastically. Kagome glared at him and tossed the paper onto her kitchen table as she walked into the kitchen to look into her small fridge out of habit.

"She talked about the Camarilla bloodlines today." Kagome felt like a petulant child telling her nosy parent of her day's happenings.

Sesshomaru chuckled. "Ohh, I'm sure she did. But did she tell you the important and pertinent information, I wonder?" Kagome cocked an eyebrow at him, but nonetheless sat down at the kitchen table after retrieving her laptop.

"How do you keep getting in here? Are you some sort of vagrant or something?"

"No, I recently acquired an apartment. Did she tell you that the Toreadors are usually quite a waste of space and do nothing but mill around humans, too lost in their own egocentric 'poetic sorrows' to do anything with their unlives but bask in the beauty that kine create? They can be useful occasionally, however."

"Well, what the heck are you doing here bugging me if you have a place?"

"You're my childe and thus, my responsibility, even if everyone thinks me gone. Did she tell you that the Gangrel are 'close to their inner beasts?' What a joke. They simply don't know how to keep it in check, so they run around howling at the moon, frenzying the second someone starts to piss them off."

"If you have your own place, why don't you go there instead of breaking and entering into mine?" Kagome opened her email to find a message from Iris Paige, sister to Rebecca Paige. Her body went cold…er. Did she know?

"I have to keep an eye on you, you know, and make sure that you're getting the full story, not the corporate Camarilla-sponsored half-truths that will get you killed. Malkavians are demented. Their so called 'gift of insight' comes from the voices in their heads, literally. Most of them are too far gone to make any sense. If you see anyone that isn't of the homeless population arguing with a stop sign, they're most likely Malkavian."

"If by 'recently acquired an apartment,' I hope you don't mean mine," Kagome drily remarked as she opened the message from Iris. They met during her freshman year of college, and Iris was the godsend that got her through that year, a foreign girl in a foreign country studying foreign materials.

'_Kagome,_

_I'm sorry I haven't talked to u in a while. Things have been so hectic with me, and I haven't even had time to take care of myself, let alone my social life. Sorry for dumping this on u, but I need to vent._

_They found Rebecca's body this morning by the boardwalk. Someone ripped her up, Kagome. Her throat was cut almost 180 degrees around. Idk what kind of monster could do that to someone, especially Becca. She was doing so well and had no enemies. U knew her. It was practically impossible for someone to dislike her. I don't get it, Kagome. Can we meet up for coffee some time? I need to talk to someone that isn't a reporter or my dad. Thx.'_

"Of course not. The apartment across from yours has been vacant for a few weeks. I checked. Nosferatu… I pity them, but that doesn't make me like them more. They're damn useful, though. You need information on anyone, anything, you get hooked up with a Nosferatu and they'll get you in. They've got networks, and nobody knows exactly how extensive they are. It unnerves me, how much they know and how quickly they know it. They're essentially traffickers in information and bribery and can be very dangerous if crossed."

Kagome forcefully shut her laptop, unable to respond to Iris. Iris didn't know… but she also didn't know that Kagome had recently joined the grand ol' "League of the Undead" either.

"Across the hall? They'll find you, especially if you keep coming around here. I don't really fancy getting my head chopped off over your stupid hide."

"Oh, little Kagome, how much you have yet to learn. The closer to your enemy you lay, the longer it takes for them to discover you. The Brujah have a good thing going, but they tend to take it overboard. Most of them are Anarchs, short for Anarchists. The Anarchs don't have anything against the Masquerade or most of the Traditions, but feel that the hierarchy and bureaucracy of the Camarilla are completely unnecessary. They never last long, though. The Camarilla makes sure of that, if you catch my meaning."

Kagome walked to her bedroom and put on her favorite light grey nightie. Her mom shipped it to her for her birthday three years back. While alive, it used to compliment her complexion prettily. Now, it practically camouflaged into her pale skin. She walked back out into the main room and plopped down in a chair.

"Anything else you want to add?" She rested her chin upon her right hand and gave Sesshomaru her most bored look.

"Ah, much, but I wouldn't want to overload that simple little head of yours. The last clan we'll go over tonight is the Tremere. They frankly put me on edge. They frighten everyone, rightfully so. They're highly secretive, and the little bits people uncover are enough to scare them away. Blood magic is their forte, and it's not pulling rabbits out of hats, I'll tell you that much. Avoid the Tremere if you can."

"Hmm, I'll do that," Kagome muttered absently, staring at the newspaper.

"Are you even listening?"

She hadn't even realized it until a red-tinged droplet fell from her eyelashes and onto her lap, staining the satin. She was weeping. "They're calling my mom tomorrow. About my 'death.'" Mama is going to be heartbroken. And Souta… the thought of her little brother caused another bead to tumble down her cheek.

"Ah," Sesshomaru said carefully. This was dangerous territory: territory of the emotions. When was the last time he'd experienced a feeling other than the thrill of the hunt?

"It had to happen eventually, you realize. It's better to get it done quickly. When these things are left too long, problems arise."

"What kind of problems?" Kagome scrubbed at her eyes, ashamed that she'd let her mask slip in front of him. After all, he was essentially a stranger.

"I think that tomorrow, we'll pay a visit to Charlie. Until then, start thinking of a new name. You will eventually need it, as one almost always encounters humans from their past at some point. No matter who they are, you will need to lie to them about your identity. You know this, yes?" He got up and walked to the door, presumably to walk the five feet to his own door. Neighbors these days...

"…Yes," she tonelessly answered.

* * *

Yaaaaassss. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I hope you guys are starting to catch on to who some of the characters are. I'll tell you right now, all of the characters so far are canon characters (though I've had to change the names and ethnicities since this is set in San Diego, not Tokyo). Any OCs won't last long, e.g. Rebecca Paige, the mayor's daughter. Her and the two victims of today's chapter were the only OCs so far, if one can call them OCs.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews and reads. This is another kinda boring chapter, but is informational in nature and will shape how you and the characters in this story view the other characters. Does that make sense? XD


	4. If You Wanna Find Hell With Me

Kagome looked out the window in the hallway of her apartment building. The sky was tinged with red, as if someone had lit the world on fire. Curiously, she couldn't hear any noises from the normally busy traffic outside. Quirking an eyebrow at the oddity, she walked back into her apartment.

The second she turned to flip the light switch next to the door, she felt that something was wrong, so horribly wrong. Light flooded the room, and she tamped down a shrill scream that rose in her throat. Splashed on the walls, soaking the beige carpet, dripping from the kitchen counter, was blood. So much blood. She quickly rounded the corner to see a red-painted figure collapse, plummeting toward the floor.

Propelling herself forward, she messily caught them before they fell to the ground and lowered herself slowly into a crouched position. She turned the person around in her arms carefully, mindful of the multitude of wounds that marred the flesh and left the clothes hanging in tatters. What exactly was keeping this person together? It couldn't be much…

When she turned the figure over in her arms, she felt her world go cold. There, limp in her arms, was the body of her mother, whose tormented eyes bored into Kagome's skull. Her mouth opened and a stream of blood trickled out the side.

"Wh…what have you done, Kagome?" she whispered, and Kagome's body shook with terror. Who did this? How did she get here? Why, why , why?!

"Kagome, what have you done?!" her voice shrieked, the body convulsing in her arms. Her mother's hand reached up to grab her forearm, and she found that it actually hurt her. She looked down to see talons buried in the flesh of her arm, decayed and congealed blood oozing from the wounds.

"Mama! Stop, I-"

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!"

Kagome awoke with a start, throwing the unnecessary blanket off of her legs and racing toward the front door. She shakily loosed the chain and bolted to the end of the hall, passing Sesshomaru, who was stooping to pick up the newspaper from his doormat. He stared after her.

"Who lit a fire under your ass?"

She completely ignored him and thrust her face into the window. The San Diego evening sky was dark blue, just as it was every other night, cloudy days notwithstanding. She hastily walked back down the hall to her door, shaking her head and muttering. She could practically feel her eyes bugging out of her head, but paid no heed to Sesshomaru, who was staring at her in apparent worry. After all, it wasn't every day that your neighbor completely lost their shit without provocation, especially when that neighbor was in danger of exposing the vampire community. A rogue, psychotic blood sucker was never a good thing.

She reached for the doorknob, but was yanked back when Sesshomaru grabbed her arm. "What's going on? What did you do?" His voice was firm and commanding.

She snatched her arm back and strode into her apartment, searching under the couch cushions and checking the sink, even sifting through the wreckage of her bathroom door strewn across the floor. Sesshomaru slowly followed, watching her with an apprehensive curiosity. She continued muttering, frantically tearing the towels out of the linen closet, her near-hysteria approaching a peak.

"Blood, blood everywhere," he heard her mutter.

"Do tell what blood you're talking of. Aside from the mess you've just made, the place is practically spotless," he commented, taking in her wild expression as she turned to face him.

"There was blood. It was all over the place and my mom- my mom!"

Sesshomaru grabbed both of her forearms and forcefully steered her to one of her dining room chairs.

"You just had a bad dream, kid. It happens to everyone. Now unless your family has magical teleportation powers that you neglected to tell me about, they're probably all still in Tokyo."

She was visibly shaken, but the fog of panic was beginning to clear from her thoughts. Sesshomaru stood nearby, picking up his dropped newspaper and unfolding it. "When you decide you're done with this little episode, get dressed. We're going to Charlie's today."

"Who is Charlie?"

"The sooner you get out of those pajamas, the sooner you'll find out." With that, he walked out the door, presumably to reenter his own apartment.

Kagome managed to pull herself together and stumble into the bedroom. She slipped on a Misfits tee and a pair of capris to find, to her delight, that the hair on her legs had not grown. Benefits to being undead so far: one. She looked in her small framed mirror hanging on the wall. Strange bright indigo eyes stared at their reflection, wishing, for once, for the plain dark brown that used to lay there. She shrugged and walked toward her front door, picking up the larger chunks of her door that lay in her bathroom. Upon walking out of her unit, she saw Sesshomaru waiting for her, unsurprisingly. He held out a business card, which Kagome clumsily took and maneuvered into her pocket before trudging down the stairs with her armful of what amounted to kindling. Before she reached the glass door, Sesshomaru spoke.

"I cannot go with you, not in the taxi. I wrote down her address, so just tell the driver and he'll get you there. I'll probably arrive before you, so don't keep me waiting."

"Wai-" Before she could even utter a whole word, Sesshomaru was out the door and out of sight. Just as she turned to dump the armload of door bits into the complex's dumpster, she saw a yellow cab pull up in front of the building. She quickly scrambled inside and read off the address scribbled on the back of the business card. The driver noiselessly nodded and began driving.

The silent man drove her to a large manor in Del Cerro. The Queen Anne revival style of the house was visually striking, not just for the intricacy of the classical style, but for the juxtaposition among the sharp, modernist beach houses that surrounded the place. After a moment of gawking out the cab window like a typical tourist, she handed the cab driver her bank card, only to have him hand it back. Declined. She sighed; apparently once one dies, new unlife or no, one's assets are frozen. She made a mental note to get back every penny in her now useless bank account from Sesshomaru, using whatever means necessary.

Apologizing profusely to the sunglass-bedecked driver, who sat in silent observation, she dug through her bag to scrounge up enough cash to pay the cab fare. With another sheepish apology, she exited the vehicle and wondered what to do. After all, who has strangers coming to their door in the late hours of the night? Just as she put one foot forward to start up the walkway to the house, she happened to spy something in the tree.

For once she gave thanks for her new undead life, for it gave her rather enhanced night vision. Perched upon the bough of a pear tree, his back against the trunk and a leg hanging casually down, was none other than Sesshomaru. He looked like a panther lounging; all relaxed and smooth except for those ever watchful predatory eyes that raced over her skin like fire and held the promise of destruction. He slid off the branch, landing with soft knees upon the well-manicured grass. With a grandiose flourish of his arms, he urged her toward the door. She pressed the small, glowing doorbell and waited. She could hear the bell echoing through the house, low and vaguely ominous in the still night around. Behind her, she could hear the steady pull of the sea and a chorus of crickets chirping.

No response.

"Do you feel hungry at all?" Sesshomaru casually asked, shoving his hands into his black bomber jacket and looking around aimlessly.

Come to think of it… "No, not really. Is that a bad thing?"

"No. Your first couple of nights, you have to have a lot of blood intake to make up for all of it that you lost during your Embrace. From now on, you'll most likely have to feed around once a week."

"Ah. Do you have any cash? I'm assuming I'll need to take the cab back, and my bank account is apparently frozen." She sent a withering glare at him. He pulled out a wallet and shoved forty dollars into her back pocket, causing her to hop forward in surprise at the intrusion of her personal space.

Kagome reached for the illuminated button once more, but just before she pressed the button, the carved wooden door opened in front of her and a very pale, very female person peeked around the edge, suspicious eyes darting between the two of them.

"What are you doing here," she whispered toward Sesshomaru, paying no heed to Kagome. He looked at her plainly and said nothing at all. Her tawny eyes narrowed, but she let the two of them in just the same.

She closed the door behind Kagome and, without saying anything, turned and walked through a doorway, Sesshomaru following her. She led them into an old sitting room. The walls were covered with peeling maroon floral wallpaper, and the furniture looked heavily dusty.

"This is Charlie. Charlie, this is my undoing."

Charlie turned around, one eyebrow raised, and sat upon a very old vintage green couch. Sesshomaru and Kagome followed suit on the matching loveseat across from her. She levelly gazed at the two sitting in her living room, and her lips were slightly pursed.

Sesshomaru leaned forward and rested his elbows upon his knees. "Charlie, I was wondering if you could perhaps inform young neonate Kagome here of the perils of keeping ties with family and friends after the Embrace. How is your dear brother, by the way?" His face was smug as a thief.

Charlie's expression darkened, and Kagome saw something akin to pain flash behind her eyes before the hard mask of careful indifference slipped back into place.

"What do I get out of this," the woman cautiously asked. Kagome looked around the room, trying unsuccessfully not to eavesdrop upon a conversation to which she was clearly not invited. She espied an old piano tucked into the corner, hidden by a black cover and a thick layer of dust.

Sesshomaru gave a soft snort. "The assurance that your little secret remains as such." Kagome looked back over to Charlie, who had pursed her lips even tighter. Her ears picked up on a barely-audible police siren that seemed to punctuate the silence.

"You know of the Masquerade, right?" It took Kagome a few seconds before she realized Charlie was speaking to her.

"Uhhh," was her intelligent answer.

Charlie's nostrils flared. "We don't have time for this shit, okay? I have things to do. Don't break the Masquerade. The Masquerade is a metaphor for our existence. We figuratively wear masks so kine don't discover us. That means no using most of your learned disciplines, no feeding in the open, and no juggling station wagons with your new strength. You follow me?"

Kagome nodded shyly. Sesshomaru leaned over, putting his lips near her ear. She almost shivered. "Charlie is a Gangrel. Don't test her patience." He pulled away with that irritating smirk he so liked to sport.

"If you keep in contact with your family," Charlie continued, crossing her arms across her chest, "you risk breaking the Masquerade. Imagine your family's horror when they discover their little cupcake's turned into a blood-sucking monster, condemned forever to lurking in the shadows of her past life. If they run to the press or even tell the neighbor, we're done for. You're hunted like a prize buck, and there's nothing that can end it save a sunrise or a shotgun blast to the back of the head."

"Shotgun?!" Kagome's mouth dropped. When did she sign up for gunfights?

Charlie nodded drolly, as if she were giving this lecture the fiftieth time over. An old grandmother clock tucked in the far corner chimed eleven 'o' clock. "The Society of Leopold, the main organization you need to worry about, pulls no punches when it comes to eradicating demons, vampires, and the like. They are always on the verge of discovering our true natures, so keeping to the Masquerade is especially important. The second they catch a whiff, they won't stop."

"Why, it sounds as if you speak from personal experience," Sesshomaru mused, his eyes twinkling with a twisted merriment. Charlie's hands balled into fists.

"My little brother," she faltered before settling her nerves once more. "My little brother was just a baby when I was… turned. My parents were dead, I was newly undead. I had to keep him safe." She got up and headed towards an old wooden staircase. "Follow me."

Kagome and Sesshomaru trailed after her until they reached the top landing of the stairs. Charlie silently crept down the hall to the second door on the right and opened the door, which creaked on its hinges.

"Sister?"

Kagome nearly jumped into the shadow behind the door. She hadn't expected to hear another voice, the crackly voice of a teenager. Charlie motioned them to come forward, much to Kagome's confusion. More insistent, she beckoned Kagome forward.

"Is it time to take my medicine? I'm not feeling well again," the young boy's voice sounded. Kagome saw that he was probably around fourteen, but the body reclining upon his bed had the frailty of an old man. His dull, grey eyes seemed to look straight through her as he swiveled his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

Charlie walked over to a small refrigerator that, strangely enough, had a digital number lock upon it. "Yup. Hold on just a sec." Kagome stood motionless in the door. She felt her face contort in horror at what Charlie pulled out of the refrigerator.

Blood. A sealed container of blood.

Followed by the blood was a can of tomato juice. Charlie walked over to the desk near the door and poured the tomato juice into a tall glass, maintaining eye contact with Kagome. She then carefully poured the entire four-ounce container of blood into the juice and stirred. Kagome was positively appalled and wanted to sprint away from this obvious lunatic.

Charlie walked back over to her brother, picked up his left arm, and placed the glass in his hand. "Here ya go, Blane. Make sure you go back to sleep after you're done. We'll see how you feel tomorrow, okay?" She smoothed his dark hair back from his forehead with a smile before turning to exit the room.

The second the trio reached the bottom of the stairs, Kagome whirled around and whispered, "What was that?!"

Before Charlie could answer, Sesshomaru cut in. "That, Kagome, was an exception." She scoffed at his usual enigmatic answer and looked to the woman standing next to her.

"Blane was born blind and was a very sickly kid. That's the only reason I'm able to do what I do. However, the others here in the city don't know about him. They'd see the both of us as a liability, despite the state of his health and his disabilities. I give him blood every few weeks to stabilize his condition."

"Blood?"

"God, you really are new at this. Vampire blood can be used in a process called ghouling. If you create a ghoul, you feed a human the blood of a vampire on a regular basis, which causes them to acquire longer life and sometimes powers such as increased strength or heightened senses. They remain human, and so pose a risk to the Masquerade in and of themselves."

Sesshomaru chimed in, "The Camarilla likes to make sure that ghouls don't remain so for long. They usually end up as half-informed new kindred or as corpses with concrete shoes."

Kagome sat back down upon the green loveseat as she processed the information. "What does this have to do with my family, though?" she asked. Charlie's long brown hair swished behind her as she returned to her place on the couch.

"I am under suspicion by the Society of Leopold," Charlie admitted. It all clicked in Kagome's head. Someone had leaked Charlie's secret, either about her brother or about her vampirism.

"I feel like you're leaving something out. I could be wrong, though. There just seems to be a tiny detail that we're missing here," Sesshomaru added, verbally prodding their host. She sighed heavily.

"My family… we were hunters. Members of the Society for who knows how long. Generations. I still do some side work for them, just small-time solo missions. Someone, somehow, picked up on what's happening here and sang to their superiors. I know I'm being watched like a goddamn hawk. It's only a matter of time before they start looking at Blane, too." Charlie looked at her lap, her features fixed into an expression of loathing. Kagome felt her heart ache for this girl. Sesshomaru pointedly tilted his head to the massive weapon hung upon the far wall, almost hidden in its case under a ridiculous layer of dirt and dust. She felt the strange urge to go up to it, to see if there was any blood coating the curved edge.

Sesshomaru, however, had other plans. "Well, we'll be leaving now. Also, don't tell anyone we were here. It would be a damned shame if something were to happen to your darling brother, no?" He got up, smoothing his jacket, and showed himself to the door. "Thank you, Charlie, and rest assured that I haven't and won't spill." Kagome bowed slightly with an apologetic smile, and scampered after her sire.

As they exited the house, she caught up with him. "What exactly was I supposed to learn from this?"

"The perils of dancing on the edge of recognition. If you had entertained any hopes of keeping contact with your family, I hope you see why it is too dangerous to risk, not only for your skin, but theirs as well. Their skin is far more delicate and bleed-y than your own," he said as he opened the door to the waiting taxi. She slid in, and when she turned to shut the door behind her, he was gone.

The cab ride back to her apartment was silent, and she stewed in equal parts contemplation, gut-gnawing worry, and intrigued curiosity.

When she climbed the stairs and reentered her home, Sesshomaru unsurprisingly reappeared from the shadows and followed. They both took their places at her cheap table in what was disturbingly becoming some sort of routine. Kagome finally slammed her palms down on the cluttered surface, sending papers and old candy wrappers flying before locking her knees and bending to hover in front of Sesshomaru's face.

"What the hell are you following me for? I don't even know you. What do you want with me?" she seethed at him.

"Touchy, touchy are we? So strange, I know everything about you." Sesshomaru leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table while perching his chin upon his folded hands. "Higurashi Kagome, 24, from Tokyo, Japan. Comes from a shrine family of priests and miko. Mother, Mayumi; brother, Souta; grandfather, Kiyoshi; father, Hiroshi, killed in a car accident in 1996-"

"STOP!" Kagome's eyes were brimming with blood-tinged tears and staring directly at her tormentor. Sesshomaru didn't flinch.

"I know all there is to know about you, Kagome."

"I KNOW! That's why it-it… It's just weird, okay? I don't know anything about you, but here you are, prancing around my living room like you own the place! You take over my home, my life, my very fucking existence! And I've never even seen you before four nights ago."

He waited until she had settled back down in her plastic chair, still seething. "I do not prance."

If looks could kill, he would be a jacket-wearing puddle of vampire sludge.

Golden eyes narrowed, and Sesshomaru leaned back in his seat. Kagome looked at him peevishly and opened the laptop in front of her. Dare she re-read that email from Iris? Tentatively, she logged into her email and surprisingly found one new message in her inbox. Her jaw went slack, and a bright, high droning rang through her ears as she felt her fingers go slack over the keyboard. The email was from one Souta Higurashi.

Sesshomaru cleared his throat, and Kagome looked up to see an almost roguish smile stretched across his face.

"Would you like to know about me, little neonate?"


	5. It's A Long Way to Go

**... With the Reaper at Your Side**

July 7, 1853. Edo

"Sesshomaru-sama," a soft female voice sounded behind the thin shoji screen. Sesshomaru could see from the corner of his eye her silhouette crouched next to the door, awaiting his permission to come in.

"You may enter."

She quietly slid the shoji open and stepped inside, crouching upon the floor to set her tray upon the floor before shutting the screen. She softly padded across the tatami mats and set the tray beside the stoic man.

"I've brought you something to eat, my lord." She bowed low, her tied-back hair falling over her shoulder. Sesshomaru paid her no heed and remained seated upon the floor, gazing up at the immaculate set of samurai armor that he had inherited from his father upon his deathbed nearly eight years previously.

"Please, my lord, you must eat before you go down to meet the ships tomorrow. For the sake of your health, I beg yo-"

"Leave."

"Yes, my lord." She bowed once more before padding over to the shoji to open it. Sesshomaru's eyes followed her out of the room, watching her soft, supple form quietly retreat from his sight. As he refocused upon the armor in front of him, he heard the woman softly pad away whispering, "No, Hidenori-chan. The lord is busy right now."

He stared at the red lacquer adorning the intricately patterned armor. The color of blood… There was going to be blood spilt tomorrow, he was sure of it.

That night, he came to sit in the main room of his home. He was quickly presented with a meal of rice and pickled vegetables with steamed fish. He set to eating it promptly and was aware of the woman's eyes lingering upon him. Next to her was seated a small toddler, who was fed by one of the household's staff.

"My lord, must you go down tomorrow to the ships? I am sure that the other samurai are well-equipped to care for such a matter."

"Do you insinuate that I am incapable of doing as such?" He raised a cup of sake to his lips without meeting her eyes, knowing that her face would be the one little chip in his armor that would make it fall to pieces.

"No, of course not, my lord." He saw her bow her head with the pretense of shame, but knew that she would once again brook the subject, stubborn creature that she was. "I merely suggest that such a show of force would prompt these American sailors to suspect hostility."

He nearly snorted. "That is what we aim for, is it not? Those cursed black ships bode ill. We've had no problems in keeping trade limited to our allies; why should we change just because these new 'Americans' demand as such? It's ridiculous." He drained the sake cup and placed it firmly upon the ground, where it was promptly refilled, the soft woman's dainty, pale hands practically glowing in the lantern light as her sleeve slipped up to reveal a tantalizing glimpse at the smooth flesh of her wrist.

At that moment, the child began to fuss, and she nodded her head to a servant who whisked the child away to be put to bed.

"If you must go down to the harbor tomorrow, I insist upon accompanying you. I have a bad feeling about these black ships," she murmured as she deliberately set down the sake bottle.

His face fell into a stony scowl. "No."

"But, my lord, I can wield the naginata as well as any man-"

"NO! And that is final! You are my wife and will do as I bid you!" He was nearly shouting, and he vowed not to grace his impertinent wife with any more words as he brought his chopsticks to his mouth once more.

"I beg your forgiveness, my lord," she murmured, bowing in apology. "Is there anything my lord requires? Should I await you in the next room?"

"Hmm," he grunted in response, and dared to flit his eyes to the left to look at her. Her big, inquisitive eyes were narrowed in a smile. She bowed once more and stood.

"Enjoy your meal, my lord. I will await your presence in the other room," she murmured with a smile as she delicately padded across the tatami and out of the room. He quickly finished his meal and began undressing. A servant hurried off and returned with a sleeping yukata, which he slipped on. With unhurried steps, he strode toward the bedroom.

When he reached the shoji, he saw his wife's figure sitting seiza near the screen, silhouetted by the candlelight behind her. As soon as she saw his shadow approaching, she slid open the screen and allowed him to enter. He looked down upon her as she shut the door. She was donning a fresh yukata with her dark hair hanging free to the middle of her back.

As soon as she stood up, she turned to place her hands upon his chest ever so softly, parting the fabric as she brought her lips to ghost over the hollow of his neck. In a flurry of panting and rustling clothing, she was on her back and he was lavishing her with warm kisses as he ran his hands over the fabric covering her small breasts. His long, black hair fell to slide against her throat, making her shudder. Her shapely rose petal lips parted, and she moaned his name, spurring him on. Just as he reached a hand down to pull apart the folds of her yukata, the shoji screen slammed open with a loud clack.

"My lord," a male voice shouted. Sesshomaru contemplated pulling out his sword and smiting the bastard where he stood, but instead he turned and stared coldly at the intruding soldier.

"Many apologies, my lord, but your presence is being requested at the harbor immediately. The black ships are coming in early." With a sigh, he stood and walked through the house towards the red lacquered armor while his wife hurried away to fetch his clothes, far too dignified for a woman in such a disheveled state. The soldier bowed hastily and retreated, seemingly sensing the boiling rage and hard determination emanating from Sesshomaru.

His wife inevitably returned with a bundle of clothes in her arms, and a time later, he was completely dressed, bedecked head to toe in his father's armor. Walking through his home with his wife trailing behind, he reached the front entrance and strode out into the moonlit night, straight to where his warhorse was posted. He mounted and, looking down to the ground, saw that his wife was staring tearfully up at him, her dark eyes glistening with moisture.

"I fear you will not return." Her voice quivered and her hands trembled. He said nothing in response and spurred his horse forward, riding toward the sea.

When he reached the crest of the hill just above the shore, he could see that a group of samurai had already gathered to welcome a small rowboat from one of the black ships anchored nearby. As he approached, he saw that behind the gathering of boisterous, blond-haired "Americans," was a small, hooded figure; all that could be seen was pale, white skin and small fingers grasping the edge of the thick, black woolen cloak that was clasped together by a string of jade magatama.

One of the sailors reached forward a hand in greeting, but his face was as blank and insincere as a viper. Sesshomaru stared at the hand and crossed his arms.

The Americans' translator, a tiny balding man of squat stature, quickly hashed out the details of the impending morning's schedule when the rest of the sailors and their commander would come ashore to speak with the daimyo.

Slightly perturbed that his presence was requested for such a trivial matter, Sesshomaru remounted his horse noisily, his armor settling around him, and carefully steered his horse back up the rocky hill to the shaded road leading toward his home. The horse began whining and stamping its hooves and Sesshomaru jerked the reins, scoffing in irritation.

Shooting out of the tree-sheltered tall grasses next to the road, a shadow slammed into the horse, throwing Sesshomaru to the ground. The horse's leg was broken and jutting out at a horrid angle as it rolled on its side and screamed shrilly, tossing its head about. He could see its eyes bulging, rolling in the sockets as he deftly rolled away. The swift black shadow quickly jumped upon the animal, snapping its neck with a quick jerk of its hands. The animal's head flopped to the ground with a thump, and he could see the tip of its tongue slide out of the open mouth to dip into the dirt.

Sesshomaru quickly righted himself, bringing his katana out of its sheath. The metal slid out with a metallic ring that echoed in the still night. As he planted his feet firmly on the ground, the assassin stepped into the moonlight, and he saw that it was the strange woman accompanying the American sailors. She pulled the hood down, and he narrowed his eyes when her own clear grey ones stared piercingly into his face. Her jaw was slightly square, indicating Korean origin rather than Japanese.

"Remove your helmet," she softly commanded in lightly accented Japanese, and he strangely found himself obeying, dropping his prized sword in the dirt to reach for his helmet. It was if he had no control over his body; as if he was being manipulated, a prisoner in his own skin. His helmet thudded on the dirt road.

"And your armor," she continued, and he tugged at the fastenings until the heirloom plate armor fell and clanged against the ground. Inside, he was seething, longing to reach out and strike the small woman down for her insolence.

"Come here." A small hand appeared from between the folds of the dark cloak and beckoned him toward her. His feet involuntarily began shuffling forward, and he tried with all of his willpower to resist, tensing his muscles and gritting his teeth until beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

The female smiled, and the moonlight shone upon her pallid cheeks, making them look dewy and pearlescent. His feet continued to drag forward despite his tense, resistant muscles. Her small hands reached up to gently cup his face, and he was struck at how cold her fingers felt upon his flesh. One hand slid down his neck to slip under his kimono collar and pull it aside. The exposed skin prickled with gooseflesh. She stepped forward and, just before her chest flattened against his, a tanto blade plunged into her abdomen, and Sesshomaru's stiff hand twisted the blade. He could feel liquid flowing over his hands, but it felt cool and thick. A smile formed upon her lips that did not reach her eyes, and one of her hands came down to grip the protruding handle, around which Sesshomaru's fingers were firmly wrapped. She squeezed the handle, and Sesshomaru ground his teeth as his fingers popped and cracked, the bones snapping under the impossible pressure. She drew out the blade and tossed aside to land near the dead horse's head. Sesshomaru's chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe calmly through his nose, powering through the pain and anticipating the creature's next move.

Quicker than he'd seen anyone move, the small woman's hands flew up to grip his shoulders and wrench his body forward. His knees buckled and she lowered to the ground, crouching in the dirt.

Thoughts of his family raced through his head, and he could imagine how disgusted his father would be if he had lived to see his eldest son brought down by a tiny foreign woman. His mind was swimming in self-loathing when her soft lips brushed his skin before sharp teeth pierced the flesh of his neck, and he was instantly transported. He felt as though he was floating in infinity, turning his shame, confusing, and his begrudging admission of fear over in his hands objectively, lost in time and space. It was nothing and everything, existing and nonexistent. He felt almost… okay.

He was abruptly yanked out of the contemplative reverie when his eyes flew open to see the moon hanging impossibly bright above his head. The sky was shimmering with stars he'd never seen before. More intriguingly, the cloaked woman was perched on a rock nearby, cradling her arm in her lap. He sat up and, simultaneously, he noticed that his vision was sharper, his hearing more acute, and the taste of blood coated the inside of his mouth. A queer heat was simmering in his innards, churning and pulling on his veins in hunger. He pushed himself to his feet, noting that the pulverized bones of his hand were somehow healed completely.

"It is nearly dawn," the woman throatily whispered. "You will feed, and then we must flee."

"Flee? This Sesshomaru does not flee." He imperiously declared, and he smelled the sharp tang of blood in the air and zeroed in on two puncture wounds in the woman's thin forearm.

Her eyes narrowed, and she rose to slip into the tall grass. Sesshomaru followed, abandoning his armor and sword, and he didn't know why.

The pair crept through the tall foliage, coming to a lit fisherman's hut perched on the edge of the cliff overlooking the roaring sea. The woman knelt down in the shadows near the doorway, and Sesshomaru mimicked her movements. A tall blond-haired sailor strode out of the hut, buttoning his shirt. Without willing his limbs to do so, Sesshomaru sprung out of the darkness and latched upon the man's warm neck, driving his teeth into the salty flesh instinctively. Blood poured forth from the jagged wounds, and his mind clouded as the hot liquid washed over his tongue and ran in rivulets down his chin to stain his chest and kimono.

Blood.

The heart was pounding, echoing in Sesshomaru's ears as it tried to pump adrenaline through the dying man's body.

Blood.

His muscles wound around the tensing body, and the heartbeat finally ground to a halt. Sesshomaru was hurled back into the present as he stared at the ground in front of the victim. There was a muddy puddle, and in the reflection of the water, he saw his own face. It was the face out of a nightmare: his hair had turned silver and shone like spun moonlight, and yellow eyes glowed in his skull like a wild panther's as he watched his elongated canine teeth slide out of the dead man's neck. His golden gaze flitted upward, and the woman hovered in his line of sight. He let the carcass drop to the dirt as she turned to walk away, and he tried not to tremble in fear at the creature, the monster that he had become.

She led him wordlessly along the cliff, leaving him to stew inwardly in confusion and unadmitted fear. "What is this, woman," Sesshomaru questioned harshly. She continued forward, and Sesshomaru could see that the sky to the east was barely beginning to lighten. A miniscule hut came into view in the darkness, and Sesshomaru was perplexed to see that the hut had no door and looked abandoned.

The cloaked female continued forward and stepped into the dark, cobwebbed home. Sesshomaru contemplated wringing her neck but for the information she possibly possessed concerning his new predicament. She crouched down to grab a nearly imperceptible strip of brown silk lying in the dust. Gently tugging the fabric up, it rose out of the dirt and revealed the other end to be tied to a small iron ring bolted to the floor. She reached forward and pulled it up, a makeshift hatch hinging open into some dimly lit secret cavity below, into which the small woman slipped. Sesshomaru followed suit, and as he landed in the low-ceilinged chamber, he heard a female voice say in greeting, "Kwan Hana." She turned as Sesshomaru got to his feet and crouched over in the cramped space, and he saw another female, a Japanese miko bowing before him. Before she could say anything, the cloaked female interjected, "This priestess is Midoriko. She will watch over our slumber during the day." The small miko bowed and climbed up the rotting wood steps before shutting the trap door, sealing the two of them in the cramped space.

Anger, curiosity, and bewilderment blanketed Sesshomaru's thoughts, but he found himself growing sleepy alarmingly quick. He shuffled groggily past the woman and sat in the corner farthest from the stairs before she snuffed out the small oil lamp with her fingers. He slept, and no dreams came to pierce the black emptiness of his mind that night.

Sesshomaru awoke the following evening to a light tingling hunger, just noticeable enough that he felt a twinge in his nerves. The cloaked woman was awake and staring at him with the little lamp in hand. He levelled a glare at her before shuffling forward to climb the short stairs and push the trap door open. The night air felt good against his skin, and he deftly leapt out, taking note of his increased dexterity and physical strength. He landed gracefully and quietly upon his feet, and made his way toward the road that would lead to his home. He didn't look back, but he knew that she was walking silently behind him still holding that tiny flame.

"Wherever it is that you go, know that you won't find what you're looking for. Only sorrow awaits your fate and everybody you touch," she whispered, and he tried to ignore her. This woman didn't know him or his life.

When he reached his home, the lanterns were all extinguished, and he could see no servants upon the grounds. Approaching the door, he heard nothing coming from the home, so he slid open the shoji of his bedroom door. A wall of putrid stench hit his nostrils, and he saw the bloated corpse of his weapons master lying at his feet. Beyond his corpse, however, Sesshomaru found the bodies of his family: his wife lay upon the futon they shared, and her blue-grey form was curled around the tiny corpse of his son and heir, Hidenori. The air was thick with the odor of disease, and he could see vomit stains soaked into the tatami surrounding the futon. They had died in agony of cholera, but at least it took them quickly.

He felt his face settling into stone as he turned on his heel and marched past the woman and out of the home. His life as he knew it was demolished, annihilated in the course of twenty four hours. His country was to be invaded by American outsiders, his family was killed by the diseases they carried, and he himself had been turned into a monster befitting the tales of the monks telling of youkai and oni.

"Come with me. Sail back to America with me," the woman murmured, coming up to stand next to him. Impudent bitch. "I can tell you what you are, teach you how to survive." He swiveled to look down at her, and her grey eyes were patient and clear, waiting for his response. Crickets chirped and cicadas buzzed, echoing in his curiously empty mind. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

She lifted her chin in acknowledgement and tossed the tiny lantern over her shoulder into the shoji screen, and the oil splashed over the dry rice paper before going up in bright flames. Sesshomaru instinctively stepped back, shielding his face from the roaring flames that quickly enveloped his house. He stared at the growing inferno, and he knew his preternatural yellow eyes must make him look like a fiery demon indeed. The female turned and walked quickly ahead of him as his surviving neighbors poured out of their homes to try and quench the fire before it consumed everything. He needed no instruction to know he was to follow. They drew away from the homes and toward the beach. He heard her speak in rich tones as the breeze carried the distant screams of the infirm and helpless being burned to death in their homes. The wind filtered through her long, glossy hair, blowing it free from the confines of the dark cloak. "The name you shall know me by, young neonate, is Kikyou."

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**Awh, man guys! Thanks so much for the positive reviews so far on this fic! It's been brewin' in my mind these past couple months, and I've wanted to work on it so badly. However, it was my second-to-last semester in college, so things got hectic as fuuuuu-. So I wrote this right after I finished my last final and didn't really read over it, so apologies for bad grammar or spelling.**

**Anway, I hope you enjoyed this little chappie. It's just a character background chapter, yeah, but! Plot tweeeeeeest at the end, yes? No? Maybe so? Next chapter will definitely get back to the main storyline with Kagome and other such characters. I think it's time we introduce you to a new sect. The Anarchs perhaps...?  
Also, in this fic, Sesshomaru and his comrades are not youkai/demons. They're just human beings, coming from a wide variety of cultural, ethnic, and time period backgrounds.**

**Anybody know what major historical event this immediately precedes? A cookie for anyone who knows. ;D**


	6. Bloodflowers

Sesshomaru reached a long arm across the table and slowly pushed Kagome's laptop closed. Kagome's eyes were wide, and she was nearly unable to think. Sesshomaru sat back in the chair, the white plastic creaking under his weight. A smug and expectant expression decorated his features.

"So you… you were born in the 1800s?" Kagome questioned skeptically. He nodded in confirmation and crossed his left ankle over his knee. Kagome's eyes opened wide, and loud, raucous howling erupted from her mouth as she doubled over in disbelieving laughter. Sesshomaru did not join in the near-hysterics and instead arched one eyebrow up at her temporary lapse in sanity.

She looked up at Sesshomaru, fully expecting him to be chuckling in shared merriment at the obvious jest. His face was unchanging and he stared at her unblinkingly.

"Wait, no… you're not kidding?" Her voice was bordering on shrill.

"No."

"Whoa. You're like an antique! You've lived through a whole century."

Sesshomaru scoffed. "For a young Japanese woman, your manner of speaking to an elder is most uncouth," he drily remarked, leering mockingly across the table at her.

"No, seriously! You've got to be joking. Kikyou is _that_ old?"

"I tell you the extraordinary and harrowing tale of my making, and all you can ask about is Kikyou? You wound me," Sesshomaru drawled sardonically. "Even so, yes she is. Though I'm not sure exactly how old she is. In my many years of experience, women don't tend to enjoy being asked that sort of question." Kagome rolled her eyes.

"I had no idea she was your… _sire_." Her tongue rolled around the word strangely.

Sesshomaru nodded, and his silver hair slid into his eyes. "She and I have a pretty bloody track record, in both senses of the word really. We created many corpses." He grinned darkly before continuing. "But we also have some… well, bad blood," he chuckled, his upper lip curling up in a smirk that exposed one fang that glinted in the light.

"What happened?" Kagome crossed her legs and leaned forward, palming her chin.

"That, my little one, is a story for another night." He reached forward to ruffle her hair, and she ducked out of the way, sending him a scathing glare. Kagome's fingers twitched around the edge of her laptop, torn between opening it and trying to pull more information from Sesshomaru. He, meanwhile, got up from the table to lounge on her small battered love seat. He shrugged the bomber jacket off, throwing it haphazardly over his shoulder, and threw himself onto the couch with his boots resting on the arm of the sofa. She could see the edge of his black tee shirt hitch up on the decorative pillow, and it slid up to expose a sliver of pale, muscular flesh. Kagome's gaze lingered far longer than she had planned, and Sesshomaru caught her gawking. A lecherous grin bloomed across his mouth, and Kagome quickly changed the subject, looking away pointedly. She felt, despite her blood being cold and sluggish in her veins, that she would begin to hotly blush.

"So wait. Kikyou told me that we- Ventrue I mean- can only feed upon one type of blood. When you killed that sailor, was he the right victim for you?"

"Yup." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Sesshomaru was still smirking smugly.

"Well, how did you know he was right? I mean, what are the odds you'd get it right with the first shot?" She kept her eyes glued on the laptop logo, refusing to let him win this emotional battle thinly veiled by words. Her hormones were dead and gone, right…?

"I didn't. Instinct."

"Well, how are he and I connected? What similarity do we share?" Kagome was sincerely perplexed; what in the world could she possibly have in common with a filthy nineteenth century American sailor?

Sesshomaru chuckled lowly. He rose up off of the couch, and Kagome's eyes inadvertently flitted up at the sudden motion. His molten gaze caught hers, and he held it as he slowly peeled off his shirt, walking toward her. She quickly stood up and skirted around the table, backing into the kitchen as he stalked toward her. Before she could put in a word edgewise, she was pushed up against the kitchen counter, her back arched over the sink as her elbows braced upon the surface and fought to keep her semi-upright. Her shirt rose up indecently. He was bending over her, his pelvis pushing against hers, his hard chest pressed against her breasts. He had her trapped; his corded arms were planted on either side of her.

Her eyes involuntarily flitted down, and she saw that her hands, dangling limply at the wrists, were flushing pink. Her whole body was aflame and burning with the sudden blush. Her shock at the new development was quickly overshadowed when Sesshomaru bent his head down so that his cool lips were just barely pressed against her ear. A shudder went down her spine, and she was ashamed to realize that it was both out of fear and of a faint tingling of sexual stimulation.

"The blood that calls to my hunger…" he started, and he released one of her arms to draw his fingernails gently down the exposed flesh of her hip, causing the skin to rise in goosebumps in the wake of his touch, "…is that of the sexually promiscuous." Without a further word, he drew away from her, and the expression on his face was even more self-satisfied than before, while her own, she was sure, was the perfect mask of mixed horror, embarrassment, and misplaced lust.

"W-what?" She drew her shirt back down, eyes blinking in rapid succession as if it would erase the disturbingly erotic images that popped up in her head. She was damned if she was getting some sort of hard-on for her murderer.

"You heard me," he murmured as he drew his shirt back over his head. Her cheeks felt like red hot glowing beacons.

"Wait. No. Noooo, no no no no." She stuck out a hand and shook her head, secretly hoping it would dispel this horrifyingly schoolgirlish response her body was having. "What the hell is this?" She gestured with a hand up and down her body.

"Well, that depends on what you're asking. Are you asking for a scientific definition, or simply a man's opinion?" His face was ever impassive, but she could see the merriment dancing in his eyes. He was enjoying her torment.

"Fuck off. You know what I'm talking about. It's kinda hard to flush your skin when you don't have a heartbeat. What is this?"

Sesshomaru pressed his lips together, and she almost thought he was going to walk away without telling her, that it was some sort of dangerous and fatal response. A fraction of a second later, she realized that he was doing it to keep from laughing aloud. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

He composed himself and said seriously, "It's referred to as the 'Blush of Life.' It can be used, once mastered, to circulate consumed blood throughout the body to give the flesh a more realistic color so you can blend in with kine more easily while hunting. It brings the body a more… lively appearance." Kagome let the new information sink in. Apparently she'd discovered some sort of vampire trick without even meaning it. She was caught off guard when Sesshomaru continued, but he couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. "Yours, however, seems like an involuntary response, akin to an octopus jetting out ink, or a man pissing his pants in terror." The last few words came out almost as barks of laughter, and she wanted to kill him for making fun of her embarrassment and mortification.

"Yeah, fuck you. Go home, you creep. You have your own place, so go and laugh it up over there." She began pushing him toward the door, and he only slightly resisted. She left him at the doorway and went back to retrieve his jacket, and she was ashamed to notice that it smelled like him. She shoved it in his hand, and his face was perfectly recomposed into the usual holier-than-thou smirk.

"That little demonstration… keep it in mind. Pleasures of the flesh are not limited to the living, little Ka. Go. Me," he huskily intoned, and she could feel the blood rushing to the surface of her skin again. He leaned upon his arm in the door frame and gazed down at her.

"And by the way, it's not really nice to call your master and creator a cree-" Kagome slammed the door in his face before he could finish his sentence. He barely had enough time to pull his fingers out of the doorway.

She stalked back over to her little patio table and opened her laptop. Her fingers hovered over the keys, hesitating to type in the password to her email. A harsh sigh fell from her lips, and she quickly typed in the password, feeling foolish for being practically terrified by an email.

The computer unexpectedly dinged, and Kagome saw that she had a new email sitting at the top of her inbox: an email from one Kikyou Wakahisa. She felt her jaw go slightly slack. How the hell did Kikyou get her email address?

"_Neonate,_

_You have begun to acclimate to your new existence well, I trust. _

_I have a small errand in Ocean Beach for you to run for me tomorrow evening. Past the parking lot at the end of Osprey Street is a small cliff. Hidden on the ground is the entrance to Rum Runner's Cave, a small man-made cavern. There will be an important drop there early in the morning at 3am, around low tide. At the end of the cave, you will be meeting with a man named Mathias. Retrieve the parcel and bring it back to the Grant Hotel where I will be waiting in the penthouse suite._

_I arranged for money for your transportation to be dropped in your mail box. I trust I need not tell you to bring a flashlight and wear proper footwear. _

_-KW"_

Kagome closed the computer, plunging the apartment in darkness. The small clock by her television blinked 3:49. Two hours until sunrise. She unlocked her front door and strode out into the thankfully empty hallway. Sesshomaru was nowhere to be seen, so she spirited down the stairs to the mailboxes just inside the entrance of the building. She pried open the squeaky metal door and, sure enough, a large wad of cash was sitting in the box with a small accumulated pile of junk mail. She quickly pulled the stack out, checking the hallway for potential onlookers before dashing back up to her apartment. The junk mail was unceremoniously tossed onto the small table, and Kagome unclipped the folded money and began to count. There was over $500 in that single clip.

With a sigh, Kagome laid the money down upon her cluttered bedside table and crawled under the covers for an early sleep.

Her cell phone alarm woke her entirely too early it seemed. The screen flashed 11:00pm. Kagome rose out of her bed feeling sluggish and heavy, and the cramping feeling in her gut signified that she was experiencing the beginning signs of hunger pangs. She threw the blanket, used out of habit, from her body and slipped into a pair of shorts and a dark tank top before putting on her running shoes. She grabbed the wad of cash off of her bedside table and tucked her smartphone into her right pocket before leaning out her door to pick up the newspaper. One of the pages detailed a brutalized corpse found in the old part of Griffith Park in Los Angeles. Authorities were speculating that it was wolves. Kagome shuddered; she'd been camping in the mountains with Iris Page when she first came to the States, and the eerie howl of the wolves imprinted itself upon her psyche.

She waffled for two hours, and finally grew restless and left the apartment. When she walked out the front door of her building, she saw that there was already a taxi waiting there in the parking lot for her. It appeared that Kikyou was nothing if not thorough and prepared. Thoroughly prepared, really.

She slid into the back seat of the car, and the same driver from the previous night- the mysterious sunglasses-bedecked man with the gravelly voice- was sitting in the front seat. "Where to?" he asked simply, inclining his head so his dark shades appeared in the rear view mirror.

"Uhh, Ocean Beach?" Kagome supplied unhelpfully. The driver simply continued to stare at her in the mirror. "Honestly, I don't have an address. I just need to go to the end of Oscar Street? Or was it Oriole? Ostrich? Sorry," she floundered while mentally berating herself for not having the common sense to write down where she was going.

"Osprey. You're going to Sunset Cliffs," the driver interjected as he put the car in drive.

"That's the one! You know where it ends?"

He said nothing more, but pulled out of the parking lot and into the street, so Kagome only assumed he had some idea of where he was going. The taxi flew down the streets. The night was humid, and a slight cool fog was rolling in from the ocean. Kagome found herself staring at the reflection of the light mist in front of the headlights on the street.

Soon enough, the taxi slowed and pulled into a dark parking lot across from a residential district. Kagome could see the black ocean just past the sliver of cliff by the lot. The driver put the car in park, waiting for the fare. Kagome handed him a few twenties from the money clip and exited the vehicle. She stood in the dark lot a while, listening to the pull of the ocean. Something, however caught her attention, and her head whipped to the right.

Metallic gnashing was coming from a teenager's headphones as he skateboarded down Sunset Cliffs Boulevard toward her, and Kagome quickly darted forward toward the edge of the cliff and crouched to avoid detection. The teenager skidded to a halt and drew a small switchblade from his pocket. She could hear his breath speed up, and his eyes were visibly wide and alarmed. "The fuck was that?" he mumbled, a panicky edge to his voice. One foot was cocked up on the skateboard, and his muscles were tense and rigid.

Damn. She moved too quickly; no human could move that fast. There was no choice. She sprung up from the shadows toward the young man, who blindly sliced through the air with a shout of fright. Panicked, Kagome swiped out at the boy's wrist to knock the weapon from his hand. However, she was unaware of the new strength her vampirism leant to her, and she could feel and hear the bones in his wrist splinter. He shrieked and fled north up the street, screaming.

Kagome's stomach roiled and instinct took over. She quickly caught up to him and tackled him in the street. She fought the hunger churning in her gut and clamped a hand over his mouth while dragging him into the shadow beyond the parking lot. The thought of being caught never crossed her mind as she sank her teeth into his neck, and his writhing and struggling gradually slowed until his heartbeat ground to a halt. She stared at the body, horrified at her public feeding on a juvenile. She dragged the body backward, and carefully pushed it off of the cliff, where it landed with a thud on the newly exposed beach. Kagome noticed it was low tide, the time at which the email said that the drop would take place.

As she crouched on the ledge, she heard a car turn onto the boulevard. A police cruiser crept down the residential street, and Kagome's mind jumped into high gear. She slunk along the rocky cliff for the entrance, and the car drew closer. Just before the headlights came around the bend to shine on her form, she saw a tiny hole in the ground, mostly covered by a smear of concrete over the rock, and she quickly slid inside. The rough cement scraped up against her, causing her to strangle a grunt of pain, but she forced her body through the tiny opening, and she dropped down onto a small stone staircase. She brought her phone out of her front pocket, hand shaking, and turned on the flashlight.

She could hear dripping from the small coves below the stone under her feet, and each cautious step she took seemed as loud as fireworks in her ears. There were small niches carved in the rock walls, some holding the melted remains of candles. One set of niches was carved in the shape of a skull, where two small red candles burned in the eye sockets. Kagome's body went cold, and a sense of anxiety washed over her. Still, she pressed on, careful not to drop her phone into the holes in the floor that dropped several feet into small pools filled with stagnant, fetid seawater.

She came around a bend in the cave and hopped over a spot where the stone had nearly completely eroded away, and came to another short stone staircase leading down to a large cove, which was entirely enclosed save for the front which led out to the rocky and littered beach, which was no doubt submerged during high tide. In the echoing cavern was a thin, dark-haired man standing near the mouth of the cave next to a propane lamp.

Kagome approached over the slick rocks, and she tried to make her posture as straight and commanding as possible, contrary to the nervousness and nausea churning inside of her. When she came to stand in front of him, she saw that he had a kind face, and gave her a small smile. He seemed as nervous about the situation as she. Kagome said nothing.

"You're pretty early. Mathias," he whispered, and he held out a hand in greeting. Kagome reluctantly took it, completely aware of how warm his calloused fingers felt in her cold, hard hand. His dark, wavy hair was pulled back into a small queue, and the air around him exuded friendliness and charm. There were small laugh lines around his grey eyes.

"Kagome," she murmured in response, and he squeezed her hand a little before reaching for the rock behind him. He produced a small sealed manila envelope.

"It's a little cold out tonight," he said with light laughter in his voice. "Did you wanna put on my jacket for a minute? Your hands were pretty cold."

So he didn't know about her, what she was... "No, no thank you," Kagome politely demurred, gently taking the package from his hand. "I have to get going. Package to deliver, ya know?" she chuckled, keeping her eyes glued to the rocky ground as she felt heat flush her face. The seemingly genuine courtesy he was expressing was oddly refreshing. Kagome found herself wishing she could stay in the cave with this so-called "Mathias."

"You have a tough time getting in here from topside? You're a little scuffed up." He lightly brushed at a scrape on her shoulder, and she flinched a bit. He pulled back with a little sheepish smile, thinking himself spurned.

"Uh, well," she began awkwardly, gazing up through her lashes at him, "I'd better get going. Important, ya know, stuff to do I guess." Smooth, Kagome. Smooth.

"Yeah, likewise. I'd better get outta here before the tide comes in," he replied, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Take care, Kagome."

She smiled, but said nothing as she quickly clambered up the stone steps and made her way back through the tunnels. She carefully felt around the edges of the envelope and discovered that the envelope contained nothing but a small rectangular shape in the bottom, most likely a flash drive. Kagome folded the envelope around the form and tucked the minimized package into her pocket as she approached the tiny entrance to the cave. She turned on her back and used her feet to push her body back through the opening head first. She took her time to wriggle through the tight space. Her palms planted on the rock outside to hoist herself up, and she carefully got to her feet.

Just as she righted herself and reached for the cellphone in her pocket, she heard a small click, and something cold and hard was pressed up against the back of her head.

"Move, and I'll blow your unholy head off," came a low, feminine voice from behind her. Kagome slowly raised her shaking hands in the air. The street and parking lot were completely empty and the neighborhood was dead quiet. What Kagome would give for that police cruiser to come back around…

"What's in your pocket?" Kagome began to lower her hand to reach for the envelope, but she felt the cold metal pressed harder into her skull. "Don't. Fucking. Move. What is in the pocket?"

"A-an envelope, ma'am." She wished her voice didn't sound so pathetic and quivering.

She felt the woman reach into her pocket and pull out the small folded package, the gun still held to her head.

Her unknown attacker clicked her tongue. "I'll take that. Know, vampire, that you will burn forever in the fires of Hell." The attacker's voice took on a zealous, fanatical edge as she steered Kagome forward to the edge of the tall cliff overlooking the ocean. The gun pushed harder, forcing her head forward. Kagome stumbled and let out a whimper.

"One more filthy creature's blood upon my hands, one more parasite purged from the Earth-"

A gunshot rang out, and an earsplittingly loud and shrill scream filled the air. Kagome fell to her knees and clapped her hands to her ears, jamming her eyes shut. It was her own shrieking, her own throat gone raw, but she couldn't seem to stop. A hand pulled back on her shoulder, jarring her from her paralyzed terror, and she whirled away, attempting to scramble across the rock. The hand grabbed her again and whipped her around, revealing a very severe and-dare she say it- alarmed Sesshomaru with a small gun in hand.

"What was- what? What w…" she stammered and Sesshomaru kicked the assassin's weapon over the cliff's edge before kneeling down by the facedown corpse. He turned the female over with one hand, her dark hair sliding back to reveal a bloody exit wound in the right temple. He yanked at the star-shaped pendant from her throat.

"…Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"What? What?!" Kagome was frantic, and she was hovering behind him.

"This was a hunter. Society of Leopold." His face was taut, and Kagome could tell he was highly troubled.

The Society of Leopold. The secret society of supernatural exterminators. What was it that Charlie said?

_"The second they catch a whiff, they won't stop."_

The world became muffled, and Kagome staggered away, collapsing at the edge of the cliff and vomiting over the side. A cascade of blood streamed from her mouth, and she felt Sesshomaru grab the back of her shirt to keep her from falling over the edge.

"Tsk, tsk. You know better than to feed on those that your blood doesn't call to," he admonished, and she heard the tension in his voice behind the effort at his usual nonchalance.

Kagome got to her feet shakily and roughly exhaled, suddenly too exhausted to reply to his teasing. She bent and eased the crumpled orange envelope from the dead woman's hand, and when she stood back up, she heard loud sirens rapidly approaching. Blue and red flashing lights appeared from the north, and Sesshomaru pushed her forward into the parking lot.

"Go! Your cab is just two blocks down the road. Get the hell out of here."

She sprinted across the street and ran through the dewy front yards. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Sesshomaru quickly slip her attacker's satchel from her torso, letting the corpse crash back down upon the ground before sprinting away so fast that he was barely visible. Kagome pushed her limbs to move faster, her feet pounding upon the ground until she saw her cab tucked just around the corner on Froude Street. She wrenched the door open and threw herself into the back seat, slamming the door shut. The driver immediately put the car in drive and flew up the street, out of sight of the two police cars.

Kagome saw his sunglasses in the rear view mirror, as he was watching her expectantly. "Grant Hotel," she croaked, and resigned herself to staring numbly out the window, her limbs going limp.

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**Thanks for the positive feedback, guys! The end of this semester has left me with a bit more time to focus on writing things I actually enjoy, so the next chapter is already running through the refinery in my brain.**

**This isn't actually the way I wanted the chapter to go, but the characters apparently had other ideas for me. In the next couple of chapters (maybe next chap?) we'll be seeing some Anarch action, so fasten your seat belts, kiddies.  
Fun fact, Rum Runner's Cave is an actual place in San Diego. It's recently been totally cemented over though, I think. I don't live there, so I'm just going by what I've read on the internet.**

**This chapter was inspired by the song "Bloodflowers" by The Cure.**


	7. To Sleep Alone With Your Demons In Sight

The car soon pulled up to the Grant Hotel. Kagome once again paid the driver and stepped outside on shaky legs. It felt as if a weight was pressing upon her chest as she looked up at the grand and luxurious hotel exterior. At the very top floor, the lights of the penthouse suite shone yellow through the curtains.

Kagome tentatively walked into the lobby. The employee behind the intricately carved front desk looked at her expectantly. She was sure her disheveled appearance made her an eyesore in the otherwise luxurious foyer. She approached the desk, fiddling with the folded manila package behind her back.

"I, um, I need to go up to the penthouse suite." The employee looked at her skeptically with one eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Oh, uh," Kagome spluttered, "Kikyou should be expecting me. A Kikyou Wakahisa?" The employee clacked upon the spotless keyboard before reaching for the phone.

"Ma'am, there is a…" the eyebrow raised once more in questioning.

"Uh, uh, Higurashi!" Kagome blurted.

"…a… 'Higurashi' here to see you."

Kagome heard the tinny voice coming from the phone across the desk, unmistakably belonging to Kikyou, smoothly utter, "Of course, let her up. Give her the spare keycard."

"But ma'am, that's against hotel policy! The spare key is only for those with room reserv-"

"Perhaps it slipped your mind, but I pay you to be in my service. When I request something done, I expect it to be done. Give her the key and direct her to the lift." Kagome shuffled from side to side, pretending that she'd not used her preternatural hearing to eavesdrop like a common sneak.

The employee set the phone in the cradle and, with an almost ascerbic glance, pulled out the spare keycard and strode down the hallway to the elevator. Kagome followed, attempting to smooth her frizzy hair into obedience. The plastic card was thrust into her hand, and she stepped into the plush elevator just as the employee turned on his heel smartly and strode back to his post. Kagome pushed the highest chrome-ringed button, and the elevator lurched upward toward the penthouse suite.

When the lift reached its destination and opened at the top floor, Kagome could see the double doors to the suite at the end of the short hallway. Kikyou's silver-haired driver stood sentinel as she appeared. He raised his chin as she drew nearer the door, his golden eyes flashing in recognition. He looked so much like the haughty Sesshomaru in that moment that Kagome nearly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Kikyou is expecting me." Kagome gave a small bow and looked up at him through her eyelashes. He nodded, making his shaggy hair fall into his eyes before he allowed her to come closer. As she approached with the plastic keycard in hand, she felt the thrum of his energy, the aura of a deadly predator radiating through the air. It turned her on, and she quickly hid her face with her hair as she slid the card down the reader on the door. He pulled on the handle, and she slipped inside nimbly before he could detect her attraction.

The suite was lavishly decorated and everything seemed to be made of expensive gold filigree or carved exotic woods. Kikyou was seated in the living area, and her sooty grey eyes followed Kagome as she stepped into the room.

The elder vampire took in Kagome's disheveled and nervous appearance before gesturing to the dark leather sofa. Kagome stepped up and sank into the soft cushions while tightening her fist around the folded manila envelope.

"I trust you had no trouble obtaining the drop from our contact," Kikyou began, and Kagome promptly handed her the crumpled and battered package. Kikyou took it with a nod. "Inuyasha will dispense your payment on the way out." Before Kagome was able to ask who this "Inuyasha" character was, Kikyou continued and leaned forward to place her elbows upon her knees.

"Was there anyone that tried to stop you, Kagome? Anyone who was from a religious order, anyone who threatened you?"

Shit. Kikyou didn't tell Kagome about the Society of Leopold, so she theoretically shouldn't know of its existence. Kagome looked to her left where a framed print of a painting was resting against the French doors to the balcony. The painting, depicting two young boys and their dogs fighting, struck a chord and made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"There was, um, one woman. She pointed a gun at my head and tried to take the envelope." Kikyou looked at her levelly, and Kagome gained confidence at the Prince's calm and attentive expression. "She nearly pushed me from the cliff, so I reacted. I took her gun and shot her, then got rid of the weapon." She stiffened, hoping she'd not made an error in judgment in telling the half-truth.

To her relief, Kikyou nodded, closing her eyes. "Of course. You did what you must. The woman was most likely from the Society of Leopold. They are hunters of supernaturals, especially vampires. You are extremely lucky that your instincts were correct, as there aren't many fledglings that have been able to escape an encounter with the Society with their lives." Kagome lowered her head in modesty, and Kikyou rose to go to the large executive desk in the room. She slipped the manila envelope into a locked drawer and pulled out a small handgun. Kagome tensed, and Kikyou returned to her sofa at a languid pace.

"Take this small token of my gratitude. Or think of it as congratulations for your superior performance in dealing with the hunter. Either way, you may want to keep this and become acquainted with it. Admittedly it is small, but- Are you well, neonate?" Kagome released her involuntarily tight grip upon the leather couch cushions.

"Have you fed tonight?" Kikyou asked her, but her eyes knew the answer. Kagome shook her head. Something told her that mentioning the teenaged boy who had witnessed her inhuman speed would not work out in her favor.

"Tsk," Kikyou clicked her tongue before kneeling at the sleek black miniature refridgerator. She pulled out a small red pouch, and as she drew closer, Kagome could see that it was a medical packet of blood. It was placed in her lap, and Kikyou returned to her post at the sofa.

Kagome stared at the clear plastic with a mix of morbid fascination and disgust before picking it up and tearing through the corner with her teeth. The chilled vitae was thick and unpleasant in her mouth, but instinct drove her to suck every last drop out of the packet. She had to consciously remind herself that it would be ghastly manners to tear the plastic open and run her tongue along the seams. Kikyou watched her, the same as ever with hawk's eyes.

"Thank you for-" Kagome began, but was silenced with a wave of Kikyou's hand.

"You are dismissed, fledgling. Keep an eye on your email, for I will certainly be calling on you again. You show promise, young Kagome." Kikyou smiled, her red lips framing perfectly aligned teeth. Rather than being charmed, however, Kagome felt a tingle of something akin to fear creep down her spine. She rose off of the leather cushions and gave a small bow before exiting the suite. Her fingers traveled along the edges of the keycard, and she walked ahead, lost in the spaces in her mind.

Her reverie was ended when a large hand closed around her forearm accompanied by a gruff, "Hey." She spun on her heel to see the silver-haired young man standing in front of the door.

"She told you to come to me for payment." Kagome stared like a simpleton until he pulled a folded wad of bills from his back pocket and peeled off $300. She took the payment and stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts before gazing back up at his face.

"Inuyasha," he growled as he recrossed his arms, but his golden eyes shone with what she guessed to be excitement. He probably didn't get out too often, being some sort of bodyguard for the Prince of the city and whatnot.

"Kagome," she replied, extending her arm in a handshake. He looked at her hand with an utterly bored expression. Kagome retracted the proffered limb with a nervous chuckle. "I suspect you'll be seeing me often, so I figure we should get to know each other, right?"

He was radiating, practically humming with some sort of barely-bridled power, and a little part of Kagome wanted to find out what it was. "Maybe I'll catch you around," Kagome offered, backing toward the elevator with a flirtatious smile.

"Oh, _I'll_ be the one doing the catching," the male purred, and he flexed his arms ever so slightly. Kagome felt her face flood with fire, and she quickly turned and fled into the elevator to avoid being caught red-faced like a horny school girl.

When she exited the hotel, the same cab was waiting for her, and he drove her back to her apartment without a word. It was nearly daybreak, and Kagome's limbs were starting to feel that heaviness that signaled that darkness was calling her to slumber.

She opened her apartment door to find, to no surprise, Sesshomaru sitting at her dining room table again. Kagome let out a sigh. "Well?"

Sesshomaru looked up at her and held her would-be assassin's pendant between his thumb and forefinger. "Society of Leopold." Kagome's face fell, and she dropped into the chair across from his and laid her new gun on the table. He bent down and picked up the brown messenger he'd lifted off the body before fleeing the scene. "In here is a portfolio." He handed Kagome a single file. She opened it, and it felt like all the blood drained from her body.

Across the top of the typed page was her name emblazoned in bold print along with her staff photo from the school she worked for.

'**Higurashi, Kagome**

Age: 24 Origin: Tokyo, JP Alias: Unknown

D.O.B. 29 June, 1990 D.O.D. Recent; within the month

Report: Carrying flash drive containing Society movements and lupine developments in the park. She must be stopped at all costs. Source of information/contact: unknown.'

The silence in her ears felt like it would cave in her skull, and she looked up to Sesshomaru with concern. His face was the mask of impassivity as per the usual.

"Did Kikyou tell you what was on that flash drive?"

"…No, she did pay me, though," Kagome mused as she eased the folded bills out of her shallow pocket to lay them on the table. Sesshomaru examined the money before letting the bills flutter back down to the cluttered table.

"$300 for what amounted to a suicide mission. Kikyou's world-class value place upon life, Exhibit A," Sesshomaru drawled sardonically with a roll of his light gold eyes. "You realize that if it wasn't for me, you'd be a pile of vampire dust blowing away in the wind, right? She sent you on a mission that odds dictated you wouldn't come back from."

Kagome frowned, and she reached forward across the table to lay her hand upon his. He pulled away, and Kagome felt a pang of something like guilt. He did save her ass after all. "I know that," she said softly, "and I'm grateful for it. You can have some of the money. Or all of it- it doesn't matter to me." She paused and scanned his face. He was, as usual, sprawled out in the chair, bending it so far back that she feared the cheap plastic would snap and send him hurtling toward a back injury. His chin was resting upon his chest, and gazed up at her with a vague look of disgust.

"Kikyou asked if anyone tried to stop me," Kagome continued, ignoring his condescending stare. "I had to tell her _something_. I mean, only what was necessary, but she knows. Now please tell me you grabbed the gun before you took off." He rolled his eyes once more and pulled his bomber jacket open to reveal the pistol tucked into a pocket. "Right. Now tell me what's in the rest of that bag."

Sesshomaru brushed the money toward his childe before tipping the bag over and emptying its contents upon the table. Several gun clips tumbled out along with a handful of receipts. The last two items that fell were an identification card and a letter sealed with scarlet wax. Kagome lifted the letter and slid her finger under the seal until it popped off of the paper.

'Vera,

Know that you are doing the Lord's work and that He shall reward your great and honorable deeds done for the sake of humanity.

The target may be accompanied by another devil- perhaps her sire- so you must be vigilant and careful to slay them both and rid the earth of their hellish and toxic presence.

God go with you and bless you.

E.'

Kagome read the letter out loud with a trembling voice as the reality fully sank in. "Vera Lauritsen," Sesshomaru read off of the identification badge. "It appears to be some sort of keycard. Keep this." He tossed it toward Kagome, who clumsily caught it and tucked it into the tiny wallet she carried along with the hotel keycard.

The two sat in mutual silence for several minutes- Sesshomaru further examining the contents of the bag and Kagome running thoughts through the sieve of her mind and trying to make sense of everything. Quick as a lightning bolt, a thought struck her.

"If Kikyou sent me in knowing I would be killed, then what of the flash drive? If I was dead, the data would fall into enemy hands. So the info must have been meant to be found by the enemy. Is it false?"

"Very sharp, fledgling. You're learning quickly," Sesshomaru commented with a half smirk.

"So she paid me for what was essentially a failed mission?"

Sesshomaru clicked his tongue, setting the materials down and watching Kagome mentally untangle Kikyou's plot.

"Then again, she couldn't very well tell me that she'd planned on me failing and planting the false information, so of course she paid me," she mused. She tried to squash the feelings of hurt and betrayal that bubbled up against her will.

"Learn to play the game, little Kagome. Your motives are far too transparent." Kagome's shoulders fell in a sigh. "Don't take it personally. If you want the truth, this was not a test for you. It was a meant for me." Sesshomaru leaned forward toward her. At her confused frown, he elaborated. "Kikyou knows I'm around somewhere. She doesn't know where, why, who is involved… She's trying to draw me out. This little episode served to prove one of three possible things: One, that you're a master in tae kwon do; two, that God struck our little agent dumb, allowing you to disarm and kill her; or three, that I'm still lurking around her domain. Undoubtedly that flash drive contained real information, but it's probably data negligible enough to warrant risking it with a neophyte fresh off the meat truck. Her little scheme half-failed, but you have to keep your guard up around her, even more so now." Kagome nodded, trying to wrap her head around the increasingly complicated web she had become trapped in. Sesshomaru continued, stating, "Tomorrow I think we'll pay a visit to the Club. There are a few 'non-conformist' types you should meet now that you've had a glimpse into the Camarilla game."

"Nonconformists? You mean Anarchs?" Her sire nodded. "Make sure you wake me first thing in the morning- er, evening."

"It appears it's already morning," Sesshomaru remarked drily. The digital clock in her living room flashed 6:09AM. Kagome jumped to her feet and went to the door to see her sire out, but he remained firmly planted in the chair.

"Well…?" She put a hand on her hip and looked at him expectantly.

"There is a window in the hallway," he stated slowly, as if speaking to an imbecile.

"And… oh." Realization dawned upon her. The dawn itself was upon them, so he was trapped in her apartment until nightfall. She flipped the light switch down, plunging them both into absolute darkness. "Sorry," she muttered as she skulked toward the bedroom, which was lit with nothing but a small, dim nightlight.

Sesshomaru made his way to the couch, and Kagome turned on her heel. "Aren't you coming?" He raised an eyebrow. "Please stay with me," she murmured.

"A little too old and, frankly, dead to be fearing monsters in the night, aren't we?" His tone was almost scornful, and she shot him a pleading look.

"Just for tonight, I promise. I'll feel better about this whole mess."

With a long-suffering sigh, he followed her into the bedroom as she shamelessly peeled off her tank top and shorts, and he likewise disposed of his jacket and shirt. She slipped into her grey satin nightie and climbed under the blanket, holding it up for Sesshomaru to slide in next to her. He pursed his lips.

"For fuck's sake, it's just a blanket," she grumbled in exasperation. He remained rooted in his spot, and Kagome rolled her eyes with a huff and threw herself onto the pillow, wrapping the blanket around her. She felt Sesshomaru climb on top of the sheets next to her, and he laid stock still.

Casting a look over her left shoulder, she could see by the faint glow of the nightlight that he'd folded his hands behind him, displaying his biceps and his newly exposed pectorals. His muscles were smooth and hard, making him look as if carved from milky quartz. Her fingers itched to roam over the planes and dips of his sculpted flesh, but one of his eyes cracked open mid-dirty thought.

"You shouldn't stare. It's impolite, you know," he muttered with a smug smirk. Kagome scoffed in irritation and rolled back onto her right side. As the sun rose over her darkened apartment, Kagome finally allowed herself to succumb to slumber.

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**Welp, I promised Anarchs to you, my darling readers , and I have failed you. Next chapter, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. **

**So. Don't think that I mean to make Kikyou out to be "the bad guy" in all of this- it's a lot more complicated that Kagome knows at this point. Even Sesshomaru is in the dark about some of it. You'll be uncovering the tangled web one thread at a time with Kagome.**

This chapter was inspired by "Suspiria Snow White" by The 69 Eyes


	8. What's it Gonna Be?

Kagome groaned and opened her eyes before throwing off her daisy-spotted comforter. The lights of her apartment were already on. Her phone blinked 8:37pm. She groggily trudged out of her bedroom and down the hall to see Sesshomaru fully dressed and parked in front of her small television, lounging on the couch like he owned the place. She squashed a "hmph" of petty resentment and opted instead for an exaggerated yawn, bringing his attention to her stretching form in the doorway.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he mockingly chirped. Kagome narrowed her eyes with a scowl and sat on the other side of her creaking, lumpy couch to gaze at the flickering screen. She knew it was just artifice, something to burn time until the sun went fully down.

"What's the schedule today, O Glorious Master?" she mumbled sarcastically as she reached for the remote.

Sesshomaru smacked her hand away. "We're going to the Club. You've met one team in this game. It's time to meet another."

"You mean the Anarchs? Will there be… trouble?" Her voice was hesitant and she looked at him with skepticism.

He turned to her with one eyebrow raised and the corner of his mouth lifted in a roguish grin. "As long as you don't say or do something stupid, no. That being said, you seem to be a magnet for trouble, so I can't say for sure. It has crossed my mind that I might've made a terrible error in judgement when I chose you for my childe." His shoulders shrugged in a noiseless chuckle.

"You _chose_ me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that. I chose you because you looked potentially interesting and a fitting subject for my experiment."

"Experiment?!" she squawked in outrage.

"I never imagined you would be such a pain in my ass; otherwise I would have chosen someone else to sire."

"Fatherhood not suiting you, then?" Kagome drawled, her lip curling nastily.

Sesshomaru cracked a small smile. "No, especially since my childe is such an annoying, ungrateful hooligan."

"Hooligan?" Kagome burst into laughter. "Who the hell says 'hooligan' anymore?" Sesshomaru rolled his eyes, and Kagome continued, holding her finger in his face with the air of someone dispensing a valuable fact. "And I'll have you know that I am an upstanding member of the community and have never been," she raised her fingers to make air quotes, "a 'hooligan' in my entire life."

Sesshomaru shrugged as if he hadn't even heard her and got off of the couch. "Put some clothes on so we can get going. We've got people to meet, whispers to hear, lives to ruin. We have no time to dawdle, baby."

Kagome scoffed as she in turn heaved herself up and strode to the bedroom. Sifting through the jungle of clothes in her closet, she was aware of Sesshomaru's footsteps approaching and stopping in the doorway just to her right. Folding her fingers under the hem of her slip, she tugged the satin over her head and left herself bare to Sesshomaru's gaze. She lifted her gaze to meet his hooded eyes and grinned in triumph. Shifting her stance, she cocked her hip to the side, which made her small breasts jiggle ever so tauntingly. She swung her black lace bra on the tip of one finger. "I aint' your baby."

A smirk grew on Sesshomaru's lips, and he stepped forward. Kagome felt her hackles rise, and she dropped the bra on the floor, forgotten. Quicker than a flash, he pushed her backward and onto one of her end tables, sending an old alarm clock and assorted bottles of nail polish and perfume clattering to the carpeted floor.

His face was dangerously close to hers, and she put her hands on his shoulders. With his own triumphant "hmph," he dove in, teeth clashing against hers. His tongue delved into her mouth, and she harshly exhaled through her nose as she felt heat creep up her neck and into the tips of her breasts which were brushing against the fabric of his shirt. One of his hands shot up to fist in her hair, and Kagome moaned into the kiss at the introduction of the pleasure-pain.

Without warning, his other hand delved into her panties as he pushed her back flush against the bedroom wall. She bucked against his hand, and he nipped at her bottom lip, causing little rivulets of blood to drip down her chin. She mewled and panted as he made slow, deliberate strokes with his tongue, lapping up the lukewarm liquid. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and she yanked him toward her, forcing his fingers to grind against her core with a jolt. His chest grated against her sensitive nipples, and she arched her back into the sensation with a strangled cry that was quickly smothered when Sesshomaru once more covered her mouth with his.

Kagome wantonly wriggled her hips against his hand as their tongues fought for dominance. She knew she was practically glowing red as blood suffused into her flesh. His fingers moved against her pink bud, causing her head to fall back with a breathless pant, mouth agape. She distantly remembered that her hair was still sleep-mussed and her lips swollen and without makeup, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Then, as quickly as it started, it ended and Sesshomaru pulled away. In a lust-induced haze, Kagome attempted to reestablish contact and rasped her fingernails along his neck as he pulled back, leaving trails of ragged skin on the sides of his throat. With a rakish, condescending grin, he backed out into the hall and closed the door, leaving a frustrated Kagome behind to finish what he had started.

Some length of time later, Kagome reemerged fully dressed and staring coolly at her sire, who was leaning against the front door and flipping through an old magazine.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Kagome asked irritably, as Sesshomaru showed no sign of leaving the apartment any time soon. He looked up at her and impassively took in her form.

"_I'm_ not going anywhere. True, I do have friends in the Anarch community, but there are also a lot of neonates and young fledglings that would love to score a pretty penny and a name for themselves by hauling me to the Prince in an urn. No, you're going by yourself." Kagome's jaw dropped and she shook her head.

"Nope. No, I'm not doing this alone. Isn't it, like, your job or something to teach me this stuff?"

"It's not a job if I'm not being paid. It's more like indentured servitude to my own hubris," he mused. Kagome tapped her foot in impatience. "I am teaching you. I'm teaching you a valuable lesson on surviving in the world alone and utilizing your head. I can't very well do that if I'm staked and left out for the sunrise." He leveled an exasperated glare at Kagome. "It's literally only a few blocks down the street. You don't even have to take a cab. You'll be fine. Just take that gun the Prince gave you, but _do not_ use it at the Club, no matter what happens."

"Oh…?" Kagome trailed off, awaiting his explanation.

"The Club is what's called Elysium. An Elysium is a place where kindred- vampires- meet and get away from all the bullshit outside. There can be humans there as well, so no showing your vampire nature, you hear me?" Kagome nodded. "Weapons and brawling are strictly forbidden inside, so fights are taken outside"

"Why?"

He put down the magazine and sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Because even though it's an Anarch hangout, it's still Elysium, and the rules are enforced by the Camarilla. You stick someone with a shiv or get caught morphing into a wolf-"

"I can do that?!"

Sigh. "No, you can't. Anyway, if you get caught, and you will be caught, you'll get a visit from the Prince's Sheriff, which is something nobody wants, save the Sheriff. If you absolutely have to fight some dumb fool, take it out back, but don't expect for them to let you back in any time soon. And this goes for all Elysium locations, not just the Opus."

"Hmm." Kagome was leaning against the front door. "I still don't like this. What do I tell them?"

"That's up to you. Don't say anything stupid, and don't mention me beyond being your sire. Just let them rap at you and then determine for yourself what you make of all this." He set his arms on the back of the couch and crossed his legs. "Just be back before sunrise."

"I wouldn't have guessed," Kagome mumbled under her breath as she unlocked the door.

"Head about five blocks to your right once you exit the complex. Just go inside the bar- you can't miss it. See if you can find Vince when you get there. He'll fill you in."

"Vince. Got it," Kagome said. "If I'm not back by sunrise, call the President." Sesshomaru rolled his eyes and shooed her out the door with a wave of his hand.

Kagome walked down the street and kept a sharp eye on the humans walking around her. Pedestrians passed by without saying anything on her appearance or pallor. She soon reached the front of the Opus Sanguine and could hear grating heavy metal music booming from inside. There was a line at the door much to her surprise. She walked past the queue of warm, pulsing mortals to stand before the bouncer. Lady Luck was on her side when she decided to wear her frayed denim jacket over her black tank top- she definitely looked the part of a rocker bitch. With one hand perched upon her hip, she raked her eyes up his bulky body to rest upon his scowl. One lip pucker and a few eyelash flutters later, she was through the door and among the thrumming crowd.

She fought her way to the bar and parked herself on a worn stool between where two young men were sitting and nursing drinks. There was no way they were of age. One had his head shaved into a pale blond mohawk kept vertical by who knows how much hair gel, and the other had a black patch dyed upon his crown, also kept in disarray with copious amounts of hair product. They both, for all the leather, spiked wristbands, and punk hairdos, looked like they'd just walked straight out of Mommy's house.

They both turned to stare at her, and she felt a strange tingle run down her spine. Their brows were so light as to appear invisible, and their pale blue eyes bored into her. The two then shared a look that apparently spoke volumes. The mohawked one to her right spoke first. "Gavin Ostberg." He pointed to the teen on her left. "My brother, Dakota. You're new around here."

Kagome nodded, leaning forward to hear the boy more clearly. The band playing up on the small stage at the back of the venue, "Anachronistic Goatmen" judging by the dozens of posters plastered to the red walls, was wailing away on the guitars so loud that she was surprised the amplifiers were only buzzing in protest rather than bursting into flame.

Gavin said something mid screams-meets-cymbals-meets-screeching-guitars. Kagome squinted and shook her head. "What?" she yelled over the whooping crowd and head banging guitarists.

He leaned over to yell in her ear. "Are you here to see Vince?" Kagome nodded her head yes. Gavin grabbed her by the forearm with a surprisingly tight grip and dragged her through the heaving throng of people, with Dakota bringing up the rear. With his free hand, he unlocked a door sporting a grungy "Employees Only" sign and trudged up a narrow flight of stairs, towing Kagome behind him. He led her into a dingy second floor where other similarly pale people met her with preternatural stares. Thankfully, the screeching music downstairs was slightly muffled by the floor. The wooden walls and floor had soaked up decades' worth of beer, cigarette smoke, sex, and sweat and Kagome found herself simultaneously welcomed and repelled by the smell. It was like she'd walked into some exclusive "vampires only" clubhouse.

"You could say that," came Dakota's grainy voice from behind her, and Kagome jumped. She hadn't realized she had spoken. Finding an empty spot on the wall to lean upon, she saw that Gavin and Dakota were nowhere to be seen. Her hackles started to rise when an Adonis strode toward her, his long black ponytail swaying smoothly behind him.

"You must be the new blood." His gruff voice raced across her skin and made her hairs stand on end. She stuck her chin up as he drew closer- too close. If she had a personal bubble, it would be popped and they'd both be sticky and covered in soap. Sticky… she mentally slapped her cheeks. Bad Kagome. Focus.

"Yeah? What of it?"

His eyelids fell to half-mast with a low chuckle. "Ooh, new girl's got spirit, boys. Did the Prince send you in for some good ol' fashioned espionage?" He looked down at her with gunmetal blue eyes, and despite the fact that the top of her head only reached the bottom of his collarbone she gave him her best scowl.

"I'm not her errand girl, so back off." His eyebrows drew downward and his mouth tightened in a glower, and a pang of fear lanced through her. She hoped it wasn't visible. As soon as the stormy look appeared, it vanished, and he chucked her under the chin.

"Check that attitude, girl, or someone might yank those pretty little teeth outta your head for a trophy." She looked up at the stranger, trying to figure out whether to trust him or to bite his fingers off. Oblivious or uncaring about her inner pondering, he continued. "Name's Vince. This shithole is my club. Both floors," he added with a grin.

"Vince. Right," Kagome murmured, watchful of the eerie eyes scrutinizing her from all angles of the room. Vince motioned toward the bar against the far wall, and Kagome followed closely. As they each slid onto a barstool, he snapped his fingers at the scrawny bartender without taking his eyes off of Kagome. Her gaze traveled south of his striking blue eyes to his shapely lips and the scruff stubbling his chin. Her thoughts drifted away, and she found herself wondering what that stubble would feel like brushing against the flesh of her inner thighs…

His voice snapped her out of her reverie. "So, what brings you around these parts, new girl?"

"Kagome," she supplied, and she tried to force down a blush at his predatory smirk. A glass slid down the counter at her, and she glanced at the bartender who sent her a vicious glare. She palmed the glass and looked into the contents with suspicion. Red. Blood red with a little straw and blue umbrella. Her own little murder in paradise.

Vince's low voice cut back in. "PhD. This one's on the house, babe." She flipped the straw into her mouth with the tip of her tongue and sipped, letting the tang slide down the back of her throat. Her eyes lifted to meet his once more.

"Little Kagome," he huskily drawled, ghosting a finger along her jawline. Her thoughts began losing sense and she felt heat in her belly begin to coil. She could see the lust in his eyes, and a shiver ran down her spine. Nothing wrong with a little strange, right…? Her eyes had traveled south, over his broad shoulders, down the hard abdominals showing through his tight tee, and rested at the hem of his shirt. They flitted back up to gaze through her lashes when he continued. "What lured this little fox into the wolf's den?"

**Enter Koga, Ginta, and Hakkaku! This is part 1 of 2 in our introduction to the Anarchs.**

**This chapter was inspired by the song "Foxy, Foxy" by Rob Zombie.**


	9. My Halo Fades, Sin is Calling

Kagome regarded the stranger named Vince from behind guarded eyes. "Word on the street is that you know what's what," she murmured. The crowd in the upstairs lounge resumed their activities that had been interrupted by her arrival, but they kept furtive eyes on her from all corners of the room. Her lips wrapped around the straw and sipped at the chilled blood.

Vince's eyes trained on her, clearly taking her measure. "Word on the street is that you're the Prince's new dog. In my territory, it's every man for himself. No Prince here to cover your ass," he responded. His fingers drummed lazily against the worn wood of the bar, and she set her glass down as she sucked on her teeth.

"I play for my own team," she murmured, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "That means I speak with who I want, when I want, if I want. There are advantages to both sides of the story, both teams." He lifted his chin, and she met his gaze. "That's what I'm here for. I know her side of the story. What's yours?"

He gave a small chuckle. "Right. Tell you what: I give you the lowdown, and you can figure out where you stand from there. No judgements, no sales pitch. Just the facts. You're a dangerous little piece of bait, you know that, girl?" She ran her tongue across her top teeth and raised her eyebrows.

His thin upper lip lifted in a smirk. "Well, at the heart, Anarchs reject the status quo and the Camarilla. Their rules are antiquated and no longer apply to modern society." Kagome daintily cocked her head to the side at his blatant statement. She saw Dakota and Gavin lurking near the exit, their hands in their pockets and thin shoulders hunched in an attempt at nonchalant stealth.

"The Masquerade," he continued, "is a bullshit label for common sense practice. You don't need to be told not to murder your neighbors. It's the same thing here: we don't need some capes imposing common sense laws in a thinly-veiled imposition of their control over us. We shouldn't have to get permission to sire childer just because some old bastard claims it's 'his territory' and wishes to enact control over destiny. It's simply... unnecessary." Kagome nodded and licked her lips. His eyes were locked onto her, and she was left with the distinct feeling of being a prey animal. His sweet Portuguese-tinged voice soothed her nerves, but his eyes spoke of a predatory nature.

"You see, the Camarilla works like, what's the word… a pyramid scheme. The Ancients and elders sit at the top and control their childer and domains. Those below them control those below _them_, and so on, so you and I are at the bottom of the vampire food chain. We are slaves to what amounts to a corporate blood-sucking enterprise, much like the economy of modern America. It's all a power play, and the little guy always suffers under the thumb of their so-called 'superiors' just so said 'superiors' can gain power, influence, money, whatever. We of the Anarch movement find all of this to be unnecessary power-mongering and advocate for a Free State instead. A true democratic society or even communistic society rather than a monarchy, oligarchy, tyranny, or whatever label you want to slap on the situation here."

"Uh huh…" Kagome trailed off. "So why oppose the Camarilla if you fundamentally agree with their so-called common sense principles? Or most of them anyway. I mean, it seems like you're a Prince of Anarchs."

His nostrils flared, and he lifted his chin imperiously. "You don't know any better, so I'll let it slide." One long finger jutted out to lift her chin, and he leaned forward. On the surface, the gesture was sensual, but the narrowed look on his face conveyed otherwise. "But the next time you say something so foolish, someone might rip that lovely little tongue from your skull, and I might not stop them. It would be a shame to put it to waste. I wonder what it could do for me." He withdrew his hand, and she almost shuddered.

She pursed her lips and cast her eyes down. Less than fifteen minutes into their interaction and she'd apparently fucked it up already. Smooth, Kagome. Smooth. She certainly didn't expect him to keep speaking, so it startled her when he continued his Anarchs 101 lecture.

"There are no Princes, no royalty, no CEOs in the Anarchs. We're a Free State of equals, which means that the whole structure of the Camarilla goes against our principles. We speak when we want and do what we think is right and we answer to no one but ourselves." Prince or no, Vince exuded a quality of leadership, of influence in the community. His voice and confidence were something that people were instinctually drawn to and would willingly listen to. Everything about him, from his timbre of voice to his posture indicated authority, sureness of will, and underneath it all, the raw power to back it up.

"Right," she murmured as she hopped off the barstool. The band downstairs had done the impossible and turned up their music even louder, so she leaned in close to Vince's face, brushing aside a lock of his hair. "And what do you think is right?" she breathed into his ear before sauntering down the stairs.

The crowd pulsed, and she skirted along the paper-covered walls to avoid the mosh pits. She made her way to the back wall and turned to watch the young men flailing and wailing on stage, keeping her left hand upon the cool wall. His voice whispered in her ear, and the grating music in the background faded to nothing as her world turned to a haze. This was the chase she was waiting for. Predator versus prey.

"What I want is for those who have power to topple." His muscled arms wound around her waist, and she bit her lip.

"Topple down, down, down," he rumbled, and her head fell back. Without preamble, his hands cupped her breasts through the thin material of her tank top and squeezed as she shrugged out of the denim jacket. It dangled from her right hand. "The question is," he continued, and she felt like she was trapped in a thrilling tango of life and death, "whether they go willingly." His fingers dug into her flesh, and her back arched as heat flooded her veins and warmed her flesh. She let out a moan when he bent his head to speak against her ear, and he pulled her back toward the staircase.

"Or do I have to hunt them down, one by one?" he purred against her throat, and she shivered at the contact of his stubble against the soft flesh. He pressed her into the far corner of the room, lifting her for easier access, and she wrapped her legs around his pelvis as he ravaged her neck. That her skirt was hitched around her waist like a hussy never even crossed her mind. Her arms twined around his neck, and the jean jacket fell from her hand as liquid fire coursed through her veins. The room in front of her was a sea of chaos as people threw themselves into each other and the stage and the terrible screeching of the band persisted.

"Maybe you won't have to hunt," she panted as his tongue darted out to ghost over where her pulse point once resided. His thumbs dug into the sides of her breasts and his fingers, the back of her ribcage, and she could feel her flesh parting under his sharp nails. She raked her fingernails up the fabric covering his back rougher than she'd ever dared in any of her encounters. "Maybe, with the right amount of force, they will give in." She bucked her pelvis forward and yelped as she came into contact with his cold belt buckle.

Vince's teeth grazed her collarbone. "Maybe. Whether through coercion or violence, I always get my way. Best you remember that, _querida_." She arched her back, pushing her chest forward into his clawed hands and the pain they brought. His sank his fangs into her neck, and she cried out as rivulets of blood trickled down her flesh. His hands shredded through her tank top and raked over her chest, leaving shallow, weeping scratches in his wake.

Her nerves were on fire and she dragged her nails along his neck and throat as he removed his fangs from her throat. The blood flowed freely, dribbling over her collarbone and down her chest. His thumbs swiped over her nipples, smearing the trail of blood across her left breast in a red arc.

"_Florzinha vermelha,_ truly the most tantalizing little piece of bait,_"_ he whispered before he claimed her mouth. His lips were cool and held the pungent, metallic taste of blood as they worked against hers. His hands snaked down to rest upon her hips, and she nipped at his tongue, which released his own blood into the heady cocktail swirling under their tongues and spilling down their chins.

The electricity racing through her veins was approaching a fever pitch when Vince pulled back. Kagome moaned and leaned forward, but his eyes were narrowed and his muscles were completely still. A sly grin spread across his face, and with more gentleness than expected, lowered her to stand on shaky legs. "Something wicked this way comes," he murmured through the smile. Before she could even say anything, he had furtively slipped back behind the 'Employees Only' sign and headed up the stairs, leaving her smeared in blood and in tattered clothes on the dance floor.

With a huff, Kagome bent to pick up her black jacket and slipped it on. She slumped against the wall, and watched the majority of the crowd file out of the bar. The show was over, and the band was schlepping their equipment off the small stage in between swigs of cheap beer. A few faithful patrons sat at the bar, nursing their various poisons as the noise steadily died down. She was about to leave when she saw a figure emerge from the shadows on the other side of the venue and walk pointedly in her direction. She hurriedly attempted to wipe the bloody smears she knew ringed her mouth with her sleeve and yanked the jacket closed in an effort at a shred of modesty.

A flash of recognition jolted through her mind. The approaching male was the young man who had spoken up in the "Camarilla fortress" on the night of her turning. He flung his long braid over his shoulder and gave her a small, polite smile as he approached. She smiled back, a little relieved to find what seemed like a friendly face without the promise of subterfuge and hidden motivations.

"I believe we've met before," he said when he came within distance.

Shit. She forgot the guy's name. Martin? Manfred? Manners? Manners!

"Yes, ehm, Mr. M-Manners…?" She trailed off, hopeful that she didn't get it wrong.

The young man barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "God, no. Will Braddock. If you ever call me by that dickhead's name again, I'll have to break your cute little fingers off and shove 'em down your throat," he said sweetly with a disarming smile, but his eyes spoke the truth of the statement.

"Sorry about that, Braddock. I, uh, didn't really get to know you guys during my welcome party," Kagome chuckled, casting her eyes at the floor. She drew the jacket tighter around herself, hoping somewhere in the back of her mind that she could just melt into a puddle of goo and slither away from the situation.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, don't worry about it. Looks like I missed tonight's band. Antiquated Sheepherders or some crap like that?"

Laughter bubbled up Kagome's throat. "Anachronistic Goatmen apparently," she tittered. He shrugged.

"Whatever. I hope Vicente hasn't been causing too much of a ruckus while I was out," he drawled sarcastically, a smile crinkling his young, unlined face. Kagome stared on in confusion. Why on Earth was a Camarilla hotshot bumming around a local Anarch hangout? Her body went cold. What if it was a trap?

Braddock must have seen the vaguely nauseated look on her face, and he sidled up to lean his back against the wall next to her. "Just because I am the Primogen for the Brujah clan in San Diego," he lowly mumbled, just audible enough that she could make out his words, "that doesn't mean I'm a Cammy bootlicker. I'm just the Anarch that they powwow with when shit goes sour. Believe me, it inevitably goes sour," he chortled and reached up to scratch unconsciously at his jawline.

"But what about Vince? Doesn't he own the club?" Kagome voiced.

"Nah. He owns the club, but that's about it. If we left him in charge, the city would be reduced to ashes in a matter of hours. Doesn't have much of a head for politics or negotiations, that one." He laughed outright, and Kagome giggled alongside him. True, judging by their brief interaction, Vince seemed to be a pretty straight-to-the-chase guy. No bullshitting, no beating around the bush.

Braddock turned and extended his right hand toward her. She hesitantly took it, clasping her jacket shut with her other hand. "I think it's time for a proper introduction, since you seem to be stickin' around, kiddo."

Her eyebrows flew up. "Kiddo?' You don't look a day over eighteen," she chuckled, and he gave her a conceding smile.

"That may be so, but looks can be deceiving. I was turned when I was seventeen, but in terms of years of existence, I'm easily old enough to be your father." Kagome mentally sighed. Two fuckups with this guy already, and it had been less than five minutes. It had to be some sort of record. "Anyway," he continued without missing a beat, "Will Braddock. You?"

"Ehm, Kagome. Kagome Higurashi." Sesshomaru would most likely kill her if he knew she'd used her real name. Well, screw him. Braddock's cheeks lifted in a toothy smile just as a bullet whizzed past her head and lodged in the wood paneling next to her.

She screamed and brought her hands up to cover her head as a barrage of bullets sprayed across the venue, taking out several patrons at the bar. An eerie chorus of whooping and howling sounded outside, and Braddock roughly grabbed her by the arm and darted over to the door to the stairwell.

"Upstairs and out the window," he shouted as he rammed the locked door open with his shoulder and dragged her up the steps. The second floor was entirely empty, and Kagome spotted an open window.

"It's been absolutely peachy, but we'll have to catch up some other time. Out you go," Braddock rasped as Kagome squeezed through the small opening. Her feet dangled in the open air, and she hopped out into the dark alleyway below, hoping her ankles wouldn't end up lodged somewhere in her ribcage.

The fall jarred her bones, but did no real damage, and when she straightened, she reoriented herself. Keeping to the shadows, she slunk forward toward the main street. A howl pierced the air behind her, and she leapt forward just as something behind her swiped at her arm, shredding the right sleeve of her jacket. She shrieked and bolted toward the street, where she could see there were at least three other armed guerillas. She took her chances and swung a left, sprinting down the street as fast as she could as she heard the crack of firing guns and bullets whirring past her.

There was nowhere to duck into to hide, so Kagome kept running. Although the insane gunmen were tiny specks in the night behind her and probably couldn't see where she went, she erred on the side of caution and ran past her apartment complex and doubled around the block, hopping the fence in the back and slinking to the front door. As soon as she closed the glass door of the building behind her, she leaned against the metal mailboxes and tried to steady her trembling hands. She trudged up the steps to her apartment, uncaring if she woke the neighbors with her whimpering.

It took her a few tries to steady her hand enough to put the key in the lock and turn the handle. When she opened the door, she saw Sesshomaru sitting, as usual, at the kitchen table. His face, however, instantly transformed from dull disinterest to vague concern as she flung herself in the door. Belatedly, she realized what a mess she must look: swollen lips, mussed hair, tattered clothes, tits out in the open, and blood smeared down her torso.

"I take it you met the Anarchs?" he started lightly, folding the newspaper and removing his feet from her table. She dissolved into messy, blubbering tears and crashed to her knees. Sesshomaru stood and, after closing the door behind his despondent childe, knelt before her.

She scrubbed at her eyes with her ruined jacket, undoubtedly leaving streaks of bloody tears all over her face. "I talked with Vince," she hiccupped. Sesshomaru stared, draping one arm over his knee while he waited for her to recollect herself.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she pushed herself to her feet and sank into one of the plastic chairs. "Talked with Vince and the Brujah Primogen." She sniffled.

"Braddock?" Sesshomaru sounded surprised, and he sat back in his usual chair across from her. "Quit crying. I didn't imagine he'd be there. Looks like all your stars were lined up, kid." He picked up a pen and began filling in the Sudoku in the paper. "So, what did you think? Did it give you added perspective to your precarious teetering on the edge of existence?"

She huffed at him angrily and sat up. "Well, I didn't have a whole lot of time for inner reflection since a bunch of crazy people came up and shot up the damned bar." He put the pen down and looked at her.

"They mowed all the people inside down, and everyone upstairs was gone. I had to sneak out of a fucking window. Nobody even came inside, just shot the building up."

"A Sabbat raid?" Sesshomaru's voice was incredulous, and his eyes were wide.

"I don't fuckin' know," Kagome bit back as she stood up. She could feel the blood drying and caking to her skin, and she itched for a warm shower. "Do the Sabbat howl like escaped lunatics?" Sesshomaru nodded, but his eyes were glued to her abdomen.

"Looks like one nipped you," he mumbled, and she screwed her face up in irritated confusion. She looked down and saw that she had a ragged, bloody crater in the left side of her abdomen. Her jaw fell open, and her ears started to ring. The tops of her thighs were covered in blood. Her knees wobbled, and Sesshomaru caught her elbow and yanked her into the bathroom.

"You still owe me a bathroom door," she woozily stated, and he smacked her upside the head as he guided her down to sit on the toilet seat. Without preamble, he dove two fingers into the wound, and she shrieked, flapping her hands. He caught one with his other hand and gave her a hard, uncompassionate stare.

"The wound will close on its own, but the bullet has to be extracted," he ground out, enunciating each word as if speaking to an errant child. Kagome whimpered, and his fingers dug around into the seeping wound. She bunched up the fabric of her sleeve and bit down, weeping bitterly as his fingers flexed, trying to find the bullet.

His mouth was set in a thin line, and his eyebrows lifted as his fingertips closed around something hard. He eased it out of the wound, and threw the offending projectile into the little plastic trash bin. Kagome was white-faced and gripped the bathroom counter with her free hand. He grabbed the collar of her ruined jacket and tried tugging it off, much to her alarm.

"We need to make sure you don't have any more of those things stuck in you before you get in the shower." Her teary eyes narrowed at him.

"I can do it myself," she hiccupped and slid her jacket off. He rolled his eyes.

"At this point, I wouldn't even trust you to be able to tie your shoes properly," he sardonically grumbled, and he picked at the remnants of her shredded tank top with distaste written plainly on his face. "I don't even want to know," he muttered.

She stood and let him strip her of clothes, and she soon stood naked and bloody before his gaze. He gave her a once over, raising an eyebrow at the gouges along her ribcage and the clear teeth imprints on her neck, but said nothing. She had no more gunshot wounds, so he left her to bathe. Not that she was afforded much privacy anyway since her apartment was still sans a bathroom door thanks to her reckless sire…

Kagome sat in the shower and let the hot water beat down on her. The hole in her gut was markedly smaller and oozing less, but was nonetheless painful as hell. With careful, slow motions, she wiped and scrubbed the blood from her body and hair. After she finished, she wrapped a towel around her body and stepped into the living room to thank Sesshomaru for essentially performing field surgery on her.

When she stepped in the living room, she was faced with Sesshomaru staring impassively at an angry red stain on the light blue carpet. He aimed a spray bottle of bleach at it while he worked his boot under a clean white towel on the ground. She whimpered, and he turned around.

"Don't touch it, please," she pleaded and fled into her room to dress as quickly as she could. Dirty and worn her living room carpet may be, but a gigantic rusty brown blood stain marbled with white bleach spots was far from inconspicuous. She hurried into the kitchen and came back with an old washrag and a bowl filled with soapy water. Sesshomaru was sitting on the couch, bottle of bleach sitting innocently at his feet. He watched as she carefully removed the stain, which gradually faded under her ministrations.

"So," he began conversationally, "what have you learned today?" She let out a tired chuckle.

* * *

***Cape: a derogatory term for a Camarilla vampire. This is a reference to the stereotypical Victorian upper crust cape-wearing socialite vampire, like Dracula.**

**"Querida" and "Florzinha vermelha" mean "dear" and "little red flower" in Portuguese respectively.**

**Note: Someone brought up a pretty valid point in a review. I neglected to mention that I was drawing from both the Vampire the Masquerade computer game AND the tabletop D&amp;D style game upon which the PC game was based. So! Sorry for any confusion here. Totally my bad for not mentioning that I'm using two sources here.**

**This song was inspired by the song "Fragments of Faith" by Lacuna Coil.**


	10. Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams

Kagome awoke the following night with a question on her lips. Shuffling out into her dark living room, she expected to see Sesshomaru in his customary slouch at her plastic kitchen table. To her surprise, he wasn't there, and she could tell by the silence around her that he wasn't in her apartment unit at all. She retreated into her bedroom to peel the grungy grey t-shirt from her skin. She winced as the dried blood pulled at the tender flesh around her wounds, but they were mostly healed. After shrugging into a clean blouse and capris, she walked four feet out into the hallway to knock on Sesshomaru's front door. She saw that there was some big mention of a shooting on the front page of the newspaper lying on his doormat, but she wasn't able to investigate further as Sesshomaru answered the door before she had the opportunity to knock.

Grey, well-worn sweatpants hung low on his hips, and the bottoms pooled around his ankles almost childishly. He was anything but childlike, however. Her eyes raked upward, over his toned abdomen to the corded arm that reached up to scratch at his temple sleepily. His hair was disheveled, but not in an unattractive way. It was more like an "I just rolled out of bed after a wild night of sexcapades" sort of way. Her cheeks tingled as they threatened to flush. Kagome was gawking, though a little voice in the back of her head was screaming to run and hide from shame since she probably looked like she'd gotten shit-faced drunk, engaged in a bar fight, and had to run back home in time for curfew. Really, that wasn't too far off when she thought of it, and she gave a wry internal chuckle.

Sesshomaru grumbled, "Are you going to just stand there and stare like an imbecile? You woke me up for this?" Kagome nearly recoiled, but he continued. "Next time, ask to ogle and I'll be happy to oblige, provided I'm awake," he drawled sarcastically.

Okay. Definitely not a morning, er, evening person. Kagome suddenly felt very self-conscious and guilty for waking him after his rough night. After all, how often did he have to dig a bullet out of his neighbor in the wee hours of the morning? The more she thought about that, she didn't want to know.

"Er, um, I just had a question-" she began but was cut off.

"Just come inside. You can imagine how lingering in an open doorway might work out poorly for me, yes?" Oh, that. Blood hunt and all. She cringed at her thoughtlessness. He ushered her inside and pulled the door shut behind them.

Kagome was surprised when she stepped into his home. She had whole heartedly expected it to be a miniature bachelor pad filled with the latest electronics and newest posh furniture styles with an edgy paint scheme on the walls. Maybe some tasteful female nudes would hang on the walls, accentuated by the smooth crooning of a high-dollar stereo system. Instead, his humble abode was rather… humble. The walls were white-washed, punctuated only by the sheets of metal riveted over the windows and the shabby curtains hanging pitifully over them. The furniture was minimal, and the carpet was clean. Overall, the apartment looked like nobody lived there.

The only thing signifying that a human, dead or otherwise, was living there was the enormous bookshelf taking up the main wall that would otherwise have held a large television or entertainment center. There were easily over two hundred books, and there were some short stacks of books and magazines on the floor next to the shelves. She wondered how he was able to transport all of these books from his previous haven into this apartment without being completely conspicuous.

He cleared his throat behind her, and she snapped out of her inner thoughts to face him. He ran his hand through his hair and pursed his lips.

"Well," Kagome began lamely, "I just wanted to know what I'm supposed to do now. I mean, I think I have a pretty good handle on the Camarilla and Anarchs, and I have some first-hand experience with the Sabbat guys. I was just thinking: now that I've got this information, what do I do with it?"

"I don't follow," Sesshomaru stated, one eyebrow perched high on his forehead in a quizzical look.

"What do I do next?" Kagome asked as she raised her shoulders in a shrug.

"Survive? Drink blood?" We've been over this already-"

"No!" Kagome cut him off, earning a disdainful look from her sire. "No, I mean, what's the next step?"

He barked out a wry laugh. "There isn't one. This isn't a game for fun. There's no formula to any of this. These are major power players. I've simply given you a crash course about all of the people that can kill you now. You just survive and try not to step on too many toes. That's just a thing you do now," he explained, and Kagome felt her confidence deflate like an old flan.

"There has to be more than that," she pleaded as Sesshomaru sat down on his plain sofa.

He looked up at her witheringly. "And why would that be? How is this any different than being in the living world? You know to pick out the people in charge around you, and you try not to screw up and get yourself killed or fired from your job." Kagome scoffed. He did have a point in a roundabout way, but it didn't help her feeling of growing unease.

"Whatever. Have you penciled anything into my 'Itinerary of the Undead' today, O Wonderful Master?" she intoned sarcastically, and Sesshomaru shot a condescending and cold glare that pierced her.

"No, but having a shit attitude, same as when you were still living, will not earn you any friends."

She averted her eyes. He was right, but dammit! She wanted answers. Her pride wouldn't let her apologize, so she walked back to the door of the undecorated apartment. "I'll be at the bar tonight," she said over her shoulder as she stepped through the doorway. Not that he cared, she thought with a mental "hmph."

"Don't kill anyone," he called out. "You don't have to kill when you feed, you kno-" he was cut off when she shut his apartment door, shuffling into the hallway.

Kagome ran her fingers through her hair and stepped into her bathroom to fix herself up. She was horrified and put out by the fact that her foundation no longer matched her skin tone and looked like stage makeup or tempera paint when she laid it on her skin. Translucent powder it is, then. With a simple t-shirt and capris matched with a pair of flats, she left her apartment to head to her bar.

Her hangout was a little hole in the wall bar that had had so many names, she forgot what it was now. It was on the route home from her university campus, and was a quiet little haven from college life. A haven that smelled like booze and old wood-paneled walls, but a haven all the same.

As she entered the establishment, she felt a pang of panic. What if some of her students or friends or, heaven forbid, her boss, saw her there and recognized her? She was supposed to be dead. With cold, wide-eyed precision, she looked around the room, and when she was satisfied that she didn't know anyone, she took a seat two spots away from a slumped over gentleman at the bar.

"Er, water," she said to the barkeep, who raised a slender eyebrow in questioning but handed her a cold glass all the same. Way to go, Kagome. You couldn't have ordered a Bloody Mary or something? She couldn't stop the small smirk that curved her lips at her secret internal pun. Honestly, though, she was feeling a bit peckish; she figured that all of her, ahem, extra-curricular activities with Vince combined with the gaping bullet wound had drained some of the blood she'd accrued.

As she looked around the room to the little clusters of humans, she wondered why she even showed up in the first place. She had no place here. This was a sanctuary where people, living humans could run away from their problems for a night. Her problems were of an entirely different breed, and they were the kind that couldn't be solved or temporarily numbed by alcohol consumption. She wondered how many people here were intoxicated enough that she could sneak in a little snack.

It was while contemplating if she was indeed a different breed or species from normal human beings that the man sitting a few seats to her right turned. She recognized him as the guy that met her in the secret cave up by Sunset Cliffs when Kikyou had her pick up the manila package. Matthew? Mathias? Something similar to that. For whatever reason, her spirits lifted immensely upon seeing him.

It was immediately detectable that he was a few drinks in. His eyes were glazed and drooping as he sluggishly brought a green bottle of Carlsberg to his lips. He seemed to have trouble focusing on her, but she could tell that he thought her familiar. In all honesty, he looked absolutely terrible.

"Ka… Ke… Girl under the cave. I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names," he mumbled, shaking his head as if to clear it. His accent was thicker than she remembered.

"Kagome," she gently corrected. She stood and went to stand by the stool next to him. Her mouth lifted in a slight smile as she raised her eyebrows and gestured to the seat with a nonverbal question: Can I sit here? He shrugged, and she sat down next to him. "What are you doing here, um, Mathias? Is that right?" He nodded slowly, setting his bottle on the bar. Upon closer inspection, he had dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, and he looked like he hadn't slept in several days. His face was covered in stubble that would have made him look almost rugged if he didn't already look as if he'd been hit by a truck.

"My world has crumbled around my feet," he drawled, and he gave her an intense look as if he was trying to commit her image to memory but was having trouble getting the rest of the room to stop moving around.

"Maybe we should get you some fresh air, Mister…?"

"Lauritsen. Mathias Lauritsen. Call me Mathias." Lauritsen. The name was terribly familiar, and she racked her brain as she helped him to stand and place some cash on the bar before walking him out the door where there was a bench just outside.

He sank down onto the bench with a sigh, and Kagome sat a respectable distance from him, waiting to see if he would open up. When she'd seen him just a few nights previously, he seemed like such a gentle, happy man, but this version of him was simply broken. The cool evening wind washed over their faces, and he rubbed his cheeks vigorously.

"I feel better already. Thank you, really. I'm afraid I've made a terrible impression on you."

Kagome chuckled. "Not at all. I'm just surprised; I've never seen you here before."

Mathias shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't usually come here. Just happened to be in the neighborhood and figured I'd, um, drop in for a while." His gaze sharpened on Kagome's face. "Here you're worried about me, but you look pale. Are you alright?"

Shit. "Eh, no, I'm fine. Just a little bit cold, I guess," Kagome lied, and instantly felt like smacking herself in the forehead. Without a hesitation, he shrugged off his jacket and put it over her shoulders despite her weak protests, so she meekly stuck her arms through the warm sleeves and turned to face him, tucking her legs up under her. "Thanks," she softly said, wrapping her arms around her middle. She felt like a cat that had found the perfectly warm sunny patch on the carpet and was soaking up the heat.

He said nothing in return, but once more shrugged one sad shoulder with a shake of his head. The two sat in a strange silence for a while, just listening to the distant nighttime traffic.

Without warning, he blurted, "My wife was killed a few nights ago." Kagome's jaw fell as his face tightened. She laid a hand on his shoulder, careful to tuck it into the sleeve so she wouldn't deter him with her lukewarm flesh.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Really, I am." He stared straight ahead.

"She was murdered up in Ocean Beach. Sunset Cliffs neighborhood is where they found her. She was sprawled out a ways off the road next to the cliff with a bullet in the back of her head." Kagome felt her world go icy.

Lauritsen.

"…was your wife by any chance Vera Lauritsen?" He turned to look at her with a strange expression on his face as he nodded in confirmation. Of course, the woman who tried to kill her and ended up dead at Sesshomaru's hands was his wife.

Wait. Did that make him part of the Society of Leopold? At that thought, she involuntarily yanked her hand off of his shoulder.

"Yes, why? How do you know about that?" he asked with suspicion and disbelief lacing his tone.

Kagome's thoughts raced a mile a minute. The murder was still new, so odds are that it wouldn't be released in the newspaper or local news stations in full detail. "I was visiting my aunt in that neighborhood yesterday actually. She told me all about it. Her house is only half a block away from the crime scene," she lied, hoping that she sounded genuine. The ruse seemed to work because he just pressed his lips together and nodded.

"I really am sorry that this has happened. I don't know what to say to you to help you," Kagome floundered for words as she nervously picked at her fingernails. Honestly, she wasn't sad that Vera was dead; after all, the bitch had tried to blow her damned brains out. For some reason, though, it really ate at her that because of this, it had hurt this man. She barely knew him but felt a strange sadness and longing to end his pain. The compulsion to soothe his hurt warmed her dead heart for some reason.

To her surprise, his warm hand covered her fingers and lifted her right hand. She attributed it to the alcohol, but the action made her eyes go wide and heat diffuse into her cheeks all the same. "I can't stand it when people pick at their fingers," he said with a sad chuckle and let his head fall back so that it rested against the brick of the building.

"You want to know the horrible thing about this?" he asked. Kagome was unable to answer him, as he launched straight into his explanation. "The horrible thing about it, what's eating me up, is that I'm not very sad that she's gone."

Wow. Kagome fought to keep her eyebrows from flying up to her hairline and schooled her face into what she hoped was a supportive expression.

"I am upset that she is killed, yes, but it feels more like when a distant cousin or coworker dies. It is sad that her life had to end in such a bad way, but my heart tells me that it is okay." Mathias stared unblinkingly at the light pole in front of them with hard determination. "My wife is dead, and I'm not as affected as I should be. I feel like a monster." His mouth twisted in a self-loathing frown, and Kagome twisted her hand to grip his tightly, feeling the warm roughness of the skin under her own.

"Trust me, you're not a monster. I would know," she automatically said, but back-tracked immediately when she realized that she had practically started to tell him that she herself was a true monster, something that should legitimately be feared. "What I mean is that you are not a bad person for not ripping your hair out in grief. Some people process it differently, and different, um, circumstances might make it so that your grief is lessened."

Mathias looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's okay, you can say it. Vera and I were not on very good terms. We didn't despise each other, but for the past few years, our marriage has been, how do you say, rocky."

Kagome nodded. She'd guessed as much once he'd admitted his lack of empathy for her death. "The police aren't investigating you, are they?"

He shook his head. "No. I was at work; I work road construction, so my hours are a little hectic. It's all been verified by my employer and the police, so I'm basically cleared. That is the one positive in this situation it seems." Kagome quietly murmured her agreement, and the conversation fell into a lull. They both pretended to forget that they held the other's hand.

Meanwhile, Kagome felt her veins start to tingle and itch. It would probably be in her best interests to feed soon, but she couldn't bear to tear herself away from this man, this stranger that had so captivated her with his sadness and warmth.

She was pulled out of her strange train of thought when he tugged on her hand, and she looked up to face him, startled. He looked down at her seriously, his dark grey eyes surprisingly clear and bright. "I hope you won't think me a bad man for this." Without preamble, he bowed his head and laid a gentle kiss upon her lips. Kagome was startled and went stiff before relaxing her arm to grip the front of his shirt in a loose fist. His hand shook slightly in hers. He was warm and sweet and tasted like beer and sadness and forbidden territories. He pulled away for breath, and she consciously moved her chest up and down to mimic breathing. Luckily, her natural predisposition to flush had already covered the "maidenly blush" portion.

His pupils were wide, and his breath sharpened when she boldly scooted toward him, pushing him against the side of the bench. She pressed her mouth against his with a slightly greater degree of urgency and placed her fingertips just barely upon his face. One leg hooked up over his lap, and within a few moments, she was perched on his thighs, his large hands holding her in place.

Kagome broke the kiss so he could breathe, and she laid tiny butterfly kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. She knew that she should be feeling guilty for using him in such a way, but her hunger was growing. Her tongue flicked out to lick his skin, and he shuddered under her. With as much care as she could manage, she sank her teeth into his flesh. He moaned and jerked under her before going limp, and his blood flowed sweetly into her mouth. She heard Sesshomaru's words from earlier.

"_You don't have to kill when you feed."_ Surfacing from the misty haze, she retracted her fangs and was horrified to see blood leaking from twin holes in his neck. How the hell was she supposed to not kill him if the guy bleeds out?! With quivering hands, she placed her mouth back over the wound and lathed her tongue over the punctures, trying to buy time in order to save him.

She was pleasantly surprised to find the blood flow quickly staunched, and when she pulled away, the holes were fading to small pinpricks. After a few moments, Mathias drifted back into consciousness, Kagome sitting next to him feeling thoroughly embarrassed and sheepish. Here he was, trying to get over the death of his wife, and she had entertained the thought of killing him simply to sate her appetite so that she didn't have to do it the next day.

A slight smile grew on his lips, and she was strangely relieved to see that he didn't seem to remember the vampiric nature of their encounter. It pleased her on some odd level that he thought of her as a normal woman. The two sat in awkward, giddy silence before Kagome broke the silence. For whatever reason, she felt a little bit drunk herself, so she blurted rather than politely asked, "Where are you from? You have an accent, but I can't place it."

"Er, I'm from Denmark. Been here for 6 years." His face was still sad, but there was a small light behind his eyes that made Kagome's rotting heart leap. After a moment of more embarrassed silence, they said their goodbyes, and Kagome removed his jacket to hand it back to him. Accepting it, he also took her hand and laid a gentle, drunken kiss on the cool skin of her hand after promising to call a cab so he could get home.

Kagome left him, walking for a while before she called her own taxi. She couldn't get rid of the excited giddiness racing through her veins. Perhaps it was because she was dallying with a fresh widow, or perhaps it was because he was human and she was… not. Either way, she knew Sesshomaru would probably shit a brick if he found out, so it would be her little secret for now.

* * *

This chapter was inspired by the song "Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams" by The 69 Eyes.

Not much to say here. I started this chapter a while back and then completely forgot that it existed. My bad. It's a pretty meh chapter by itself, but its setting up a whole plot arc. Cross my heart and hope to die.

For those who are still with me, thank you so very much for your continued support! We'll be hearing from Kikyou again in the next chapter, so who knows what she's got in store for Kagome.


	11. I Don't Know Which Me That I Love

When Kagome arrived back at her apartment, the building seemed quiet. It was almost a little too quiet. The hallway light buzzed lowly as she slid the key into the lock on her front door. She walked into the apartment, which was cloaked in utter darkness. The hairs on her arms rose, and she knew that her eyes were wide as saucers, searching in vain for whatever was giving her the sudden unease. The hard plastic stump of the light switch met her fingers and with a quick flick upward, her living room was flooded with dull yellow light. Everything was exactly where she had left it, everything in its own niche in the organized chaos that was her home. Basically, all was in its normal place, excepting Sesshomaru, who was still apparently still holed up in his own apartment.

Despite her home being exactly as she left it, Kagome couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension curling in her gut. She crept from room to room, trying to sneak as quietly as possible over the remaining debris of what was once her bathroom door. Really, she had to get Sesshomaru over to clean up his mess some time. It was nearly dawn, and her bones ached. It felt like her body was dragging. With a heavy sigh, Kagome collected her laptop and headed into the dark bedroom to check her email before sleep.

The computer booted up as she slipped into an old tank top and sweat pants. Bright blue light from the start screen splashed across her pillows and bedroom wall, and she nearly sighed in relief as her tired body sank onto the mattress. A few clicks and taps of her fingers on the keyboard later, and her email dinged. Seven new messages sat in her inbox, five of which were clearly spam.

Her eyes went wide at the email at the top of the list. It wasn't from Kikyou, as Kagome expected, but instead was from Janice Marten. Janice was one of the staff in the department Kagome worked in at the university. Shit. Well, it was to be expected. After all, Kagome hadn't shown up to work in what felt like an eternity, and her death was never made a public affair. For all that her friends, family, and associates of her former life knew, she was either missing or skipping town.

"_Kagome,_

_I am not your boss of course, but on behalf of all the staff here in the department, where the heck are you? You haven't shown up in over a week! No calls, no emails, nothing! I say this as your friend and fellow T.A., but you need to get back in here or else you'll be out of a job. Dr. Loames is already complaining, and everyone else in the department is trying to delay the inevitable, but something's got to give here._

_I don't know if you've run into family trouble or are in the hospital, but if you get this email, please call me, hon.  
-Jan"_

Kagome groaned. She wasn't sure of the exact protocol in such a situation, so she'd have to ask Sesshomaru in the evening when she woke up. Just as she moused over to the red X in the corner, her eye caught the unopened email her brother Souta had sent a few days previously. She felt her body tense up, and if her heart was still beating, it would be pounding and leaping out of her chest.

As much as she was burning to know what he had written in the email, Kagome couldn't bring herself to open the message. The nerves rattled and raced inside of her, and she was ashamed that her fear was brought on by a simple email. She slammed the laptop closed and lowered it to the floor, determined to ignore the curiously timed message from her little brother.

The edges of her mind tickled as she awoke from her slumber in the evening. From behind her eyelids, she could see faint light coming from the living room. Well, either some dumbass broke in or Sesshomaru decided to be social again. Her face contorted into a disgusted grimace when she pulled her face away from the sheet. She had drooled in her sleep; it was bloody drool, no less. With bleary eyes, she trudged out of the bedroom and saw the back of Sesshomaru's head, as he was sitting in his customary plastic dining chair. She quickly wiped away any of the dried drool and sat across from him. Her eyebrows shot upward when she saw that he was practically livid. The laptop was sitting in front of him, open to her email page.

"I took you to Charlie's," Sesshomaru lowly growled. "You talked to Kikyou. I _told you._" His lips were pressed into a thin line, and in the dim light, his eyes seemed to flicker with golden rage.

"I don't-"

He held up a hand, cutting Kagome off. "Emails. Brother, coworker, girlfriend. You didn't think I would find out? Are you completely insane or did you just stroke out and lose the capacity for rational thought for a while?"

Kagome recoiled as his stinging words fell upon her like acid rain. "I didn't respond to them," she pointed out. The anger was rolling off of him in waves and she fought back the instinct to flee.

"Not yet," he seethed as he stood, running his fingers through his hair. She could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell. After he took a deep breath and visibly forced his shoulders to relax, he continued. "You can't do this. As much as I hate it, you'll have to call Kikyou on this one. Being in hiding really limits the strings I can pull for you. Ask her to contact your work and your little friend here and inform them of your death." Kagome nodded, toeing at her carpet aimlessly.

Sesshomaru snapped his fingers in her face. "You're not listening to me! You can't have any contact with your old life. I know it must be hard, but you just can't. We'll have to break into our building manager's computer and change the name this apartment is registered under. I know someone who can get you a new social security number. It just needs a name."

Kagome nodded, staring at her bare toe burrowing into the dirty carpet.

Sesshomaru cleared his voice, and she jumped. "A name? Sometime today would be nice," he enunciated as if he was speaking to a very small, very stupid child.

Oh, he meant _now_. Kagome's eyes flitted around as she racked her brain for an alias. Her eyes landed upon the hideous green coffee mug she'd made in the ninth grade sitting upon the counter. "Midori…" She saw the small framed photo of her and Souta in the Sagano Bamboo Forest just before she left for America. "Midori… Midoriko Kobayashi." With an unsure grimace, she glanced up at her sire, who wore an expression of careful consideration.

"That works. I'll put in a call, and we'll head downstairs to the computer."

"A call?" Kagome questioned as she followed Sesshomaru out her front door with quiet footsteps. "I thought you were underground."

He gave a dark chuckle. "This guy owes me a favor- many favors actually. Gergo is a… well, he's a special sort of man." Kagome said nothing, so he continued as they crept down the stairway, listening for any late-night wandering neighbors. "Gergo is of one of the last Cappadocian sects, known as the Harbingers of Skulls. Yes, Harbingers of Skulls, sounds entirely too melodramatic, I know. Cappadocians, you see, have been gone for ages; you can say they were exterminated. Well, Gergo showed up a while back running from his old allies in the Sabbat."

"You're friends… with a Sabbat crazy person?" Kagome questioned, and she was sure her expression was a strange mix of horror and curiosity.

Sesshomaru reached the door marked "Staff Only" and put his ear against the cheap wood. "No, not friends," he whispered, "but more like two creatures in pursuit of a common goal, each with a weapon of assured destruction against the other. Like a Cold War minus the nukes and president fucking actresses left and right."

He apparently heard nothing coming from within the staff room and jiggled the door handle experimentally. As per building policy, the door was locked, so he pulled out a small janky lock pick that looked like it had been made out of a taped up umbrella rib. After poking, prodding, and a little fiddling with the lock, the door popped open to reveal the building manager's computer. Sesshomaru toed the door open and extended his arm in a flourish. "Ladies first."

Kagome rolled her eyes and stepped into what amounted to a very large broom closet with a moldy coffee maker and a nearly archaic computer perched upon a plywood table that looked rotten and rickety at best. The bare lightbulb above their heads flickered and buzzed, and Kagome couldn't help but wonder if the blips of light were Morse code for 'get the fuck out of here.'

He motioned to the computer, and Kagome shook her head. Sesshomaru sighed and muttered to himself as he sat down at the aged chair in front of the makeshift desk. "Doesn't even know how to hack into the front page of a computer. Thought kids these days were supposed to be good at this shit." Kagome resisted the urge to slap him upside the head but decided against it for the very real fear of pulling back a hand minus five fingers.

Within a few minutes, Sesshomaru hacked in and scrolling through the apartment records. A couple clicks and taps later, Kagome Higurashi ceased to exist in the system, and a Midoriko Kobayashi was listed as living in 4A. Kagome chewed her lip as he shut the computer down before ushering her out the door. He expertly relocked the door and they returned upstairs to Kagome's apartment.

As per the usual, Sesshomaru sat in what was basically his chair now. "You'll need to contact Kikyou and see what strings she can pull about getting your name changed on your mail and notifying everybody of your sudden 'death.'" He picked a piece of dirt out from under one fingernail with nonchalant ease.

Kagome nearly jumped out of her skin when her cell began ringing in her pocket. "Unknown number," she murmured, staring at the scratched screen. Looking up, she saw Sesshomaru shrug. She swept her finger across the plastic, connecting the call.

"…Hello?" she cautiously asked.

"Neonate," Kikyou's cool voice flowed through the phone. Kagome sagged in relief and mouthed silently to Sesshomaru that it was in fact the Prince calling her. His eyebrows lifted in approval, and he took to working one of her old pens through the crevices on the sole of his boot. She had no doubt he was focused on eavesdropping on everything Kikyou said.

"Hi, Kikyou-uh-Prince-uh-"

"Prince will do," Kikyou drawled, though Kagome thought she could hear a smile creep into the elder's voice. "I've a job for you. I'll send you a cab, and you'll go down to the Barrio Logan. There have been reports of bodies left along Chollas Creek and singing in the night. You will investigate and eliminate any rogue Kindred that you find. Is this clear?"

The swiftness with which Kikyou delivered her orders almost made Kagome's head spin. "Er, yes, ma'am. Though I do have one quick question before I go-"

"Can you go tonight?"

"Yes, I-"

"Then I will send the taxi now. Any unrelated issues will be dealt with after you've completed your mission. As with your last job, you will meet me at the Grant Hotel to receive your payment upon completion." She said no more before hanging up, leaving Kagome exasperated.

"Barrio Logan, huh?" Sesshomaru questioned as Kagome tossed her phone onto the dining table and rushed to pull on her tennis shoes. "Not a great neighborhood. I've heard about the singing around there myself. Some little birdies told me that it was a group of Sirens that's been gobbling up people and leaving messes for the Camarilla to clean up."

"Sirens?" Kagome asked irritably, brushing away invisible lint from her jeans.

"They call themselves 'Daughters of Cacophony' or some other over-the-top shit like that. Creatures similar to Kindred that have the same effect as mythical sirens. Using their voices to lure in victims before devouring them, that sort of thing. Very rare little birdies, so it's no wonder the Prince wants to be rid of them. They only seem to feed on people with musical talent."

"Fantastic," she sighed. Sesshomaru tutted at her.

"Now, now. You don't seem like you're a prima donna, so you should be safe from their evil clutches," he mocked with a smug smile. "All you have to do is find their haven and smoke them out." Kagome scoffed and stood to open the door, but he caught her arm and pressed the small handgun into her palm. "Wear my jacket and keep the gun in the inside pocket. Check the surrounding area. I believe there's a cemetery a couple miles away from the mouth of the creek." His voice took on a serious tone, and Kagome raised her eyes to observe his enigmatic change in manner as he shrugged out of the black leather bomber jacket. She murmured a quick thanks before slipping into the heavy jacket and stepping out the door.

Just as she expected, the cab driven by the quiet guy in the dark glasses was idling in the parking lot. "Hey, Mr. Sunglasses. Kikyou's shipping me off to-"

"I know," was all that he said as he put the car in drive. Mr. Sunglasses, as she had taken to calling him in lieu of his unknown name, wasn't much for conversation, so Kagome cast her eye around awkwardly. In doing so, she saw that the meter at the front of the cab wasn't running. Apparently either Kikyou pre-paid, or he was in her employ. Either way, Kagome was grateful for the opportunity to save some precious cash.

She cracked her window to get some fresh air, and she was glad of the jacked Sesshomaru had loaned to her. The wind whistled through the small space as they flew down the freeway, and Kagome could feel the coolness of the air seeping into her flesh. She could no longer feel the distinct discomfort from the cold as living humans did. However, it did cool her skin, and she didn't like the way that it made her feel like a corpse. She technically was one of course, but all the same she preferred to stay as warm as she could.

The taxi pulled up alongside a gas station just before they reached Harbor Drive in Barrio Logan. Chollas Creek ran just a few yards away from the bend in the road. Kagome got out and thanked the driver, and she watched as he drove away into the cool night. She carefully hopped the fence around the parking lot and picked her way down the short embankment of the narrow creek. The echoes of San Diego Bay's waves hummed from a few blocks to the west. She perched herself on a large chunk of broken cement laying by the edge of the shallow water and surveyed the surroundings.

Immediately Kagome could tell that bodies had been dumped there. While there were no fresh corpses to speak of, there was a faint lingering smell of rancid, rotting flesh that blanketed the area. Honestly, it wasn't even that good of a place to ditch a body. The creek was shallow and within view of several parking lots and businesses, and the water wasn't swift enough to carry a corpse all the way out to the bay. Whoever was leaving dead people was being careless.

She was crouched down with the tips of her fingers dipped in the dirty water when she heard a faint lyrical note ring out in the night. Her eyes went wide. She strained her ears to try and tune out the crickets and cars speeding down the streets, and she heard it again. It was so quiet that it was nearly inaudible, but it was definitely there: a chorus of a few feminine voices. Sirens. Right. Kagome shot to her feet and plodded noisily across the creek to the other side before scrambling up the bank and vaulting over a small metal barricade into a large parking lot.

The parking lot was illuminated with bright street lamps, so Kagome skirted the building. As soon as she reached the other side, she saw that there was yet another, much larger, set of parking lots to get across. She sprinted in between cars, ducking each time a car drove past. The voices were still quiet, but they seemed to call out to her. If she was being entirely honest with herself, she hadn't the faintest idea where she was going. She just followed what the street sign designated to be Bay Avenue and hoped for the best.

One of the benefits of becoming undead, she found, was that she didn't really tire of running, which meant that she could cover much more ground in a shorter period of time. She had no working lungs to speak of, so she wasn't out of breath. Her calves were tight and ached slightly, but as long as she took her time slinking in the shadows of the endless sea of parking lots, pain could easily be avoided.

As she drew nearer to the freeway, the singing became somewhat louder, and they seemed to echo quietly in the cavernous space underneath the tangled snarl of streets and highways crisscrossing over each other. The hairs on her arms stood on end when she came out into what seemed like an old fair ground or modern art installation. It was dead quiet, and Kagome crept between the roads' support beams into the dimly lit space. There was a small colorful pavilion with two young men smoking, but apart from him, the place was desolately empty.

Something about the place seemed terribly strange to Kagome. The art on the pillars was bright and flamboyant, which tripled her unease. She focused on getting out of the strange park and heading toward the voices. Just before she exited the area, she caught an intoxicating scent that stopped her in her tracks.

There was a small wet patch in on the ground before her, and the blades of grass were slicked with metallic blood. It took everything in her power not to get down on all fours and lick the ground like a beast, and she moved on, heading northeast as her gut flipped and flopped inside her.

Kagome crossed several small streets as the enchanting voices grew louder and louder. The sound was ringing in her ears by the time she stopped in front of a building with an old sign saying "Technomania Circus." Her senses were on high alert, and every instinct she had was screaming to run as far away as possible. A large, dry palm tree a few yards off rustled in the wind, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She carefully climbed over the black wrought iron fence into a little yard behind the building where a small stage stood between a few scrubby trees. The singing was almost painfully sharp in her head. With as much care as she could manage, she crept alongside the building. Just before she reached the edge of the stage, the voices stopped abruptly. She stopped, pressing her back against the adobe finish of the building. A heavy scraping noise sounded from the other side, and Kagome swore she heard a little giggle before the bushes on the other side of the yard shook and rustled.

If her heart was still alive, it would be hammering in her chest. Her limbs itched to run, and every neuron in her brain screeched that the whole thing was a bad idea. She, however, inched her way along the building, stopping behind the stage to listen for any sign of company. Her only answer was the rustling of the lone palm tree in the front of the building. Her hands trembled as she reached into the inside pocket of Sesshomaru's jacket to palm the small handgun. With shuffling steps, she made her way to the other side of the stage.

There was no vampire there, much to her unabashed relief. There was, on the other hand, a body recently deceased. She looked like she'd been dead for around a couple of hours. The scene around the corpse, however, was what both made Kagome's mouth water and her stomach churn uneasily. The sidewalk and the right outside wall of the stage were splashed with dark red. The short, stunted grass was glistening with blood. The body itself was a mangled jumble of round fang marks and what looked like small razor cuts crisscrossing across the pale mocha skin. The crickets and cicadas chirped as the young woman in twisted repose began her slow journey on the road to decomposition.

Kagome could feel her anxiety building and ebbing as she considered her options. She had followed the voices and they'd led her here, but they'd disappeared before any contact had been made. On the other hand, she was immensely glad that whatever had killed this girl had left. Anything that could complete this level of torture with such utter precision was surely beyond her skills. Her hand retracted out of the coat pocket and was reaching for her phone when she saw a small smear on the sidewalk a few feet ahead of the body.

It was an arrow painted in half-congealed blood. Her eyes widened, and she was horrified to realize that the sight of the body and the sign painted in her blood was having very little affect upon her in comparison to what it would have done to her to see such a sight in her mortal life. The fact that this creature had pointed an arrow presumably to where it was and left that arrow in plain sight for any stupidly curious human to follow to his death was what entirely baffled her.

Kagome steeled her nerves and walked toward the other side of the wrought iron fence and vaulted over. A quick look back at the direction to which the arrow was pointed gave Kagome a sense of her destination. She set to walking, crossing the street and heading away from the theater. It did occur to her that she was potentially walking into a major trap. Really, though, since she'd come this far, why not finish the job? Her target obviously knew she was in pursuit, so abandoning the mission would in turn make her the target.

About half a block east, Kagome burst into uncontrollable giggles. The arrow was pointing to a "La Paz Mortuary and Funerary Services." Vampires in a morgue. How utterly predictable and clichéd. Sesshomaru's suggestion of a cemetery was pretty obvious, but a morgue? She bit down on a knuckle to stop the irrational laughter that tried to worm its way out of her throat.

She stepped forward under the streetlight to push on the door, but it swung open of its own volition, the little bell above the hinge jingling as Kagome stepped through. The pale light from the streetlamps bathed the numerous coffins and caskets in pallid light. Her skin went cold.

The singing started again.

* * *

I've been trying to figure out where I wanted to go for this chapter for what seems like ages now. Sorry 'bout that! My life's been a little hectic lately what with applications for graduate school and such, so updating my fics hasn't been top priority. I do know pretty much where the next chapter is going, though, so there should be an update in the next couple of weeks.


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